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IN THE 



Home of the Presidents 



BY 

LAURA CARTER HOLLOWAY. 



WITH SIXTEEN PORTRAITS ON STEEL AND NUMEROUS 
WOOD ENGRAVINGS. 



%-Q^^_ 



^ 

^U 



NEW YORK: 

UNITED STATES PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

13 University Place. 

1875. 






Copyright, 1875.— LAURA C. HOLLOWAY. 



John F. Trow & Son, 

pkinteks and bookbinders, 

305-213 Jias( \2th St., 

NKW YORK. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

I, Martha Washington 11 

II. Abigail Adams f»9 

III. Martha Jefferson 9G 

IV. Dorothy P. Madison 113 

V. Eliza K. Monroe 155 

YI. Louisa Catherine Adams 180 

VII. Ilachel Jackson 214 

VIII. Emily Donelson. 263 

IX. Sarah Yorke Jackson 269 

X. Hannah Van Buren 273 

XI. Angelica Van Buren 279 

XII, Anna Synimes Harrison 286 

XIII. Letitia Christian Tyler 306 

XIV. Julia Gardiner Tyler 345 

XV. Sarah Childress Polk 347 

XVI. Margaret Taylor 373 

XYII. Abigail Fillmore '103 

XVIII. Mary Abigail Fillmore 419 

XIX. Jane Appleton Pierce 428 

XX. Harriet Lane 442 

XXI. Mary Todd Lincoln 469 

XXII. Eliza McCardle Johnson 490 

XXIII. Martha Patterson 512 

XXIY. Mary Stover 536 

XXV. Julia Dent Grant 540 

XXVL " The White House " 556 




..viriHiA w^mr:. 



IN THE HOME OF THE PEESIDEI^TS. 

I. 

MARTHA WASHINGTON. 

The first who, in our young republic, bore the 
honors as a President's wife, is described " as being 
rather below the middle size, but extremely well- 
shaped, with an agreeable countenance, dark hazel 
eyes and hair, and those frank, engaging manners so 
captivating in American women. She was not a 
beauty, but gentle and winning in her nature, and 
eminently congenial to her illustrious husband. Dur- 
ing their long and happy married life, he ever wore 
her likeness on his heart." " It was in 1758 that an 
officer, attired in a military undress, attended by a 
body-servant tall and militaire as his chief, crossed 
the ferry over the Pamunkey, a branch of the York 
River. On the boat's touching the southern or New 
Kent side, the soldier's progress was arrested by one 
of those personages who give the beau-ideal of the 
Virginia gentleman of the old regime ; the very soul 
of kindliness and hospitality. It was in vain the 
soldier urged his business at Williamsburg ; import- 
ant communications to the Governor, &c. Mr. Cham- 
berlayne, on whose domain the militaire had just 



12 MARTHA WASHINGTON. 

landed, would liear no excuse. Colonel Wasliington 
was a name and cliaracter so dear to all Virginians, 
that his passing by one of the old estates of Virginia 
without calling and partaking of the hospitalities of 
the host was entirely out of the question. The 
Colonel, however, did not surrender at discretion, but 
stoutly maintained his ground, till Chamberlayne 
brought up his reserve in tlie intimation that he 
would introduce his friend to a young and charming 
widow then beneath his roof. Tlie soldier capitu- 
lated on condition that he shoukl dine, only dine, 
and then, by pressing his charger, and borrowing of 
the night, he would reach AV^illiamsburg before his 
Excellency could shake ofl* his morning slumbers. 
Orders were accordingly issued to Bishop, the Colo- 
nel's body-servant and faithful folloAver, who, to- 
gether with a fine English cliarger, had been be- 
queathed by the dying Braddock to Major Washing- 
ton on the famed and fated field of the Monongahela. 
Bishop, bred in the school of European discipline, 
raised his hand to his cap, as jnucli as to say, " Your 
honor's orders shall be obeyed." The Colonel now 
proceeded to the mansion, and was introduced to 
various guests (for when was a Virginia domicil of 
tlie olden time without guests ?), and, above all, to 
(he charming widow. Tradition rehites that they 
were mutually pleased on tliis their first interview, 
I) or is it remarkable ; they were of an age when im- 
pressions are strongest. The lady was fair to behold, 
of fascinating manners, and splendidly en(k)wed with 
worldly benefits ; the hero, fresh from his early fields 



WASHINGTON, THE LOVEK. 13 

redolent of fame, and witli a form on wliicb " every 
god did seem to set his seal, to give the world assur- 
ance of a man." The morning passed pleasantly 
away ; evening came, with Bishop, true to his orders 
and firm at his post, holding the favorite charger with 
the one hand, while the other was waiting to offer the 
ready stirrup. The sun sank in the horizon, and yet 
the Colonel appeared not, and then the old soldier 
wondered at his chief's delay. " 'Twas strange ; 'twas 
passing strange." Surely he was not wont to be a 
single moment behind his appointments, for he was 
the most punctual of all punctual men. Meantime, 
the host enjoyed the scene of the veteran on duty at 
the gate, while the Colonel was so agreeably em- 
ployed in the parlor ; and proclaiming that no guest 
ever left his house after sunset, his military visitor was, 
without much difficulty, persuaded to order Bishop to 
put up the horses for the night. The sun rode high 
in the heavens the ensuing day when the enamored 
soldier pressed with his S2)ur his charger's sides and 
sped on his way to the seat of government, when, 
having despatched his public business, he retraced his 
steps, and at the " White House the engagement took 
place, with arrangements for the marriage." It is 
pleasant to remember that, with all the privations and 
hardships endured by both in after-years, they never 
encountered poverty. When Colonel Washington 
married Mrs. Custis, the ceremony was performed 
under the roof of her own home, and the broad 
lands about it were l)ut a part of her large estate. 
Immediately after their wedding, which has been 



14 MARTHA WASHINGTON. 

described repeatedly as a ni(>st joyous and hap 
py affair, in which every belle and beau for miles 
around took part, they repaired at once to Mount 
Vernon. This property, a gift to Colonel Washing- 
ton fi'om his elder brother, Lawrence, was situated on 
the southern side of the Potomac, about fifteen miles 
from Washington City, and remarkable for the mag- 
nificent view of the river in fi'ont, as well as the culti- 
vation and adornment of the vast estate. Here for 
seventeen bright and beautiful years they enjoyed the 
society of relatives and friends, and the constant com- 
panionship of each other. During those years of 
prospei'ity, Mrs. Washington had ample opportunity 
to manifest that elegance of manner for which she was 
remarkable. In her girlhood, as Miss Dandridge, she 
had enjoyed the best society of Williamsburg, and 
during Gov. Dinwiddle's residence there, she had been 
one of the most popular and admired of the many 
blooming girls who had rendered the court of the 
Governor attractive. Married when very young to 
Colonel Custis, she had lived in comparative seclusion 
on his farm, devoting her time to her husband and 
children. Endeared to each other by the warmest 
affection, her life spent in dispensing that hospitality 
which was deemed a duty and a virtue, it seemed as 
if no trouble could ever mar her happiness. Colonel 
Custis was a gifted and refined gentleman, of emi- 
nently agreeable and cultivated sentiments, and the 
possessor by nature of a generous liberality which 
rendered him popular and respected. Here, on their 
plantation home, the congenial couple planned for 



PiOME EDUCATION. 15 

their infant boy, "whose iiniisnal mental deveh^p 
nients gave only too delusive and fleeting promise 
of the future." But even as they dwelt upon his 
manly sports and coming school-days, death came for 
the rare treasure. He died, and with him went out 
the light and brightness of his sensitive parent, avIio 
sank prematurely into the grave ere he had yet 
scarcely passed the years of maturity. Thus, in a 
little while, was taken the boy whose existence first 
called into being all the deathless love of a mother 
and the companion and loving guide whose affection 
was m keeping with his pure and elevated mind. 
His romantic attention never diminished, and on his 
death-bed he bade her take charge of his estate and 
manage for herself and her two children. 
_ Nothing remains to us of her childhood save an 
indistinct tradition ; * perhaps her infant years were 
spent at her father's country home, unmarked but by 
the gradual change of the little one into the shy 
young girl. That she was educated after the ex- 
igency of her time, at home, is likewise a truth gath- 
ered from the echoes of the past generation. Vir- 
ginia, in those early days— for she was born in May 
1732— possessed no educational facilities, and the 
children of the wealthy were either sent abroad for 
accomplishments unattainable in their native land, or 
put under the care of a tutor or governess at home. 
Such knowledge as she possessed of the world was 
gleaned from the few l)ooks she read, and the society 

Wak^' was a descendant of the Rey. Orlando Jones, a clergyman of 



16 MARTHA WASHINGTON. 

of Ler father's friends, for she had never been farther 
from liome than Williamsburg. 

She is first mentioned as a rustic beauty and belle 
at the British Governor's residence, and was there 
addressed by Colonel Custis. After her marriage, 
she returned to a country life, and for several years 
lived in that old baronial style, the custom of the 
wealthy in the Colony. Her home was not far dis- 
tant from lier fathers plantation, and these fleeting 
years were so fraught with every conceivable blessing 
that her young heart asked no other boon. The 
deaths of husband and child were the mysteries of 
the inscrutable will of Providence, whereby she was 
to accomplish her destiny. The war with the French 
and Indians in the West, and the defeat and death 
of Braddock, was the first incident of public note 
which had occurred in her life, and was followed by 
deaths in her family which so materially changed the 
even tenor of her way. 

Time soothed the woinids naught else could heal, 
and the young \vidow serenely discharged the duties 
of her position. While she had vindicated the trust 
reposed in her by the success with which she con- 
trolled her large estate, she nevertheless yielded to 
the persuasions of her friends, and again accepted the 
protection of a husband. 

She was twenty-six years old when she first saw 
Colonel Washington at Mr. Chamberlayne's, and was 
remarkably youthful and handsome. She had ever 
l)een the fortunate object of warm and disinterested 
affection, and from her first entrance into the society 



^7^ 



t: V 





G 



A HOME ESTABLISHED. 17 

of Winiainsl)iirg, down to tlic last hour of Ler life^ 
it was eiiiinently illusti'ated. Few liad he(3ii lier sor- 
rows, and for eacli aiul every one endured she couhl 
count a twofold l)lessing. There was nothing in her 
life to foster the faults incident to human nature, for 
the rank weeds of poverty and bitterness which 
cramp and deform so many earth-lives, were unfelt 
and unknown to her. 

Subse(pient to her marriage to Colonel Washing- 
ton she resided at his home, now for the first time 
graced by the presence of a mistress. It had been 
the pleasant retreat of Colonel Lawrence Washing- 
ton's bachelor friends, and the occasional residence of 
his youngm' brother, but never a congenial place of 
abode until he established his young wife there, 
whose happiness was to be in future his peculiar 
care. Her life was similar to her farmer position as 
Mrs. Custis, for she was again the wife of a wealthy, 
prosperous planter, accustomed to the most refined 
society of the country, and occasionally accompany- 
ing her husband to Williamsburg, where he was for 
fifteen successive years a member of the Legislature. 

" How noiseless falls the foot of time 
That only treatis on flowers ! " 

Engaged in ftiscinating pleasures and congenial 
pursuits, it did not occur to Mrs. Wfishington how 
many summers of fragrantly blooming ilowers and 
ripening fruits had sunk into the unreturning past; 
nor did she consider that the long lapse of time in 
which she had been sc happy had meted to othera 



18 MARTHA WASIIINGTOlSr. 

measured drops of bitterness, turning all their liar- 
vest-times into chilling, dreary winter. There came 
to lier a time when the pleasant home-life had to be 
abandoned, and for eight years the harmony of do- 
mestic 23eace was banished. 

The following letter, the only one preserved of 
the many addressed to her, is full of interest, and is 
replete with that thoughtfulness which characterized 
Washington in his capacity as a husband. Mrs. 
Washington, shortly before lier death, destroyed 
every testimonial of this kind, imwilling that any 
other should read these evidences of affection : 

" Philadelphia, 18tli Jnne^ 1775, 

" My Dearest : I am now set down to write to 
you on a subject which fills me with inexpressible 
concern, and this concern is greatly aggravated and 
increased when I reflect upon the uneasiness I know 
it will give you. It has been determined in Con- 
gress that the whole army raised for the defence of 
the American cause shall be put under iny care, and 
that it is necessary for me to proceed immediately to 
Boston to take upon me the command of it. 

" You may believe me, my dear Patsy, when I 
assure you, in the most solemn manner, that, so far 
from seeking tliis appointment, I have used" every 
endeavor in my power to avoid it, not only from my 
unwillingness to part with you and the family, but 
fi'om a consciousness of its being a trust too great for 
my capacity, and that I should enjoy more real hap- 
piness in oue nionth with you at home, than 1 have 



THE AFFECTIOlSr OF WASHITSTGTON. 19 

the most distant prospects of finding abroad if my 
stay were to be seven times seven yaars. But as it 
has b(}en a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon 
this service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is 
designed to answer some good purpose. You might, 
and I suppose did, perceive, from the tenor of my 
letter, that I was apprehensive I could not avoid 
this appointment, as I did not pretend to intimate 
when I should return. That was the case. It was 
utterly out of my power to refuse this appointment, 
without exposing my character to such censures as 
would have reflected dishonor upon myself, and given 
pain to my friends. This, I am sure, could not and 
ought not to be pleasing to you, and must have 
lessened me considerably in my own esteem. I shall 
rely, therefore, confidently on that Providence which 
has heretofore preserved and been bountiful to me, 
not doubting but that I shall return safe to you in 
the Fall. I shall feel no pain from the toil or danger 
of the campaign ; my unhappiness will flow from the 
uneasiness I know you will feel from being left alone. 
T therefore beg that you will summon youi whole 
fortitude, and pass your time as agreeably as possible. 
Nothing else will give me so much sincere satisfaction 
as to hear this, and to hear it from your own pen. 
My earnest and ardent desire is, that you would pur- 
sue any plan that is most likely to produce content 
and a tolerable degree of tranquillity, as it must add 
greatly to my uneasy feelings to hear that you are 
dissatisfied or complaining at what I really could not 
avoid. 



20 MARTHA WASHINGTON. 

" As life is always uncertain, and common pru- 
dence dictates to every man the necessity of settling 
his temporal concerns while it is in his power, I have, 
since I came to this place — for I had no time to do it 
before I left home — got Colonel Pendleton to draft a 
will for me by the directions I gave him, which I will 
now enclose. The provisions made for you, in case 
of my death, will, I hope, be agreeable. I shall add 
nothing more, as I .have several letters to write, but 
to desire that you will remember me to your friends, 
and to assure you that I am, with the most unfeigned 
regard, my dear Patsy, 

" Your affectionate 

" George Washington." 

This trial of separation was mitigated, although 
often prolonged to weary months. Ever when the 
long Indian summer days of October shed glory over 
the burnished forest trees, her cumbrous carriage, 
with its heavy hangings and massive springs, sug- 
gestive of comfort, was brought to the door and 
laden with all the appurtenances of a winter's visit. 
Year after year as she had ordered supplies for this 
annual trip to her husband's camp, she trusted it 
would be the last ; and each time as the sei'vants 
cooked and packed for this too oft-repeated absenci), 
they wished it might hurry him home, to remember 
liovv many were needing his presence there. The 
battles were fierce and the struggles long, and if the 
orderly matron disliked the necessity of leaving home 
80 often and for so long a time, her heart was glad 



INSULTED BY THE LADIES OF PHILADELPHIA. 21 

of the sacrifice wlien she reached the doubly aiixioiia 
husband who was watching and waiting for her^ 
anxious for his wife, somewhere on the road, and for 
his bleeding country, struggling unavailingly for the 
eternal principles of freedom. It was her presence 
that lent sunshine to the oft-times dispirited com- 
mander, and sent a gleam of sunshine to the hearts 
of the officers, who saw in her coming the harbinger 
of their own hap]:)iness. For it was an established 
custom, for all who could, to send for their families 
after the commander had received and welcomed his. 
General Washington, after her annual trip, always 
wrote to persons who had been attentive and oblig- 
ing, and j)nnctually thanked every one who had in 
any way conduced to her comfort during her tedious 
stages from Mount Vernon. Never but once or twice 
had those yearly moves been disagreeable, and though 
universally unoffending, she felt the painful effects of 
party bitterness ; but the noble intrepidity of General 
Washington relieved the depressing influences of such 
unusual occurrences. Her own pride suffered nothing 
in comparison to the natural sensitiven 3ss she felt for 
her husband's fair fame, and the coldness on the part 
of others affected only as it reflected on her noble 
protector. Once, after an active campaign, as she was 
passing through Philadelphia, she was insulted by the 
ladies there, who declined noticing her by any civil- 
ities whatever. The tide in the affairs of men came, 
and, alas for human nature ! many of these haughty 
matrons were the first to welcome her there as the 
wife of the President. 



22 MARTHA WASinNGTON. 

Mrs. Wusliiiigton was extremely plain iu lier 
dress, and displayed little taste for those liixurioua 
ornaments deemed appropriate for tlie wealthy and 
great. In lier own liome the spinning wheels and 
looms were kept constantly going, and her dresses 
were, many times, woven by her servants. General 
Washington wore at his inauguration a full suit of 
fine cloth, the handiw^ork of his ow^n household. At 
a ball given in New Jersey in honor to herself, she 
wo]-e a " simple russet gown," and white handker- 
chief about her neck, thereby setting an example to 
the women of the Revolution, who could ill afford to 
spend their time or means as lavishly as they might 
have desired. " On one occasion she gave the best 
proof of her success in domestic manufactures, by the 
exhibition of two of her di'esses, which were com- 
posed of cotton, striped with silk, and entirely home- 
made." The silk stripes in the fabric were woven 
from " the ravelings of brown silk stockings and old 
crimson chair-covers ! " 

When peace was declared and her mantle folded 
round the suffering young Republic, Mrs. Washington 
welcomed to Mount Vernon her hero-husband, who 
naturally hoped that he might " move gently down the 
stream of life until he slept with his fathers." But a 
proud, fond people called him again from his retreat 
to guide the ship of state; nor was he w^ho had 
fought her battles, and served her well, recreant now. 

Mrs. Washington's crowning glory in the world's 
esteem is the fact that she w^as the bosom companion 
of the " Father of his Country ; " but her fame aa 



HER FAME DUE TO MORAL WORTH. 'Jo 

Martha Dandridge, and afterward as Martlia CustiR, 
is due alone to lier moral worth. To her, as a gh'l 
and woman, belonged ])eauty, accomplishments, and 
great sweetness of disposition. Nor should we, in 
ascribing her impei'ishable memory to her hus])and'9 
greatness, fail to do reverence to the noble attributes 
of her own nature ; yet we cannot descend to the 
hyperbolical strain so often indulged in l)y writers 
when speaking of Mrs. Washington. In tracing the 
life of an individual, it becomes necessary to examine 
the great events and marked incidents of the times, 
and to most generally form from such landmarks the 
motives that prompted the acts of an earth-existence. 
More especially is this necessary if the era in which 
our subject lived was remarkable for any heroic deeds 
or valoi'ous exploits which affected the condition of 
mankind. Personally, Mrs. Washington's life was a 
smooth and even existence, save as it was stirred by 
some natural cause, but, viewed in coimection with 
the historical events of her day, it Ijecame one of 
peculiar interest. 

As a wife, mother, and friend, she was worthy of 
respect, but save only as the companion of Washing- 
ton is her record of public intei'est. She was in no 
wise a student, hardly a regular reader, nor gifted 
with literary ability; but if that law, stern neqessity, 
which knows no deviation, had forced her from her 
seclusion and luxury, hers would have been an organ- 
ization of active goodness. Most especially would 
she have been a benevolent woman, and it is to be 
regretted by posterity as a misfortune that there was 



24 MAirniA Washington. 

no real urgency for a more useful life. Her good for- 
tune it was to be wealthy, of good family, young and 
attractive; and if she was not versed in the higher 
branches of literature, it was no fault of her own, 
probably, since the drawbacks incident to the pur- 
suit of- knowledge, under the difliculties and obstacles 
of a life in a new country, together with their early 
marriages, deterred women from "drinking deep of 
the Pierean spring ; " but, under the benign influences 
of Christian morality, the children of the Old Domin- 
ion were carefully and virtuously trained, and were 
exemplary daughters, wives, and mothers. 

Many have occupied the nominal position Mrs. 
Washington held, but, in I'eality, no American, or, 
indeed, no woman of earth, will ever be so exalted in 
the hearts of a nation as was she ; and yet there is 
no single instance recorded of any act of heroism of 
hers, although she lived in times that tried men's 
souls, and was so intimately associated through her 
husband with all the great events of the Revolution. 
"Nor does it appear, from the documents handed 
down to us, that she was a very notable housewife, 
but rather inclined to leave the matter under her 
hus])and's control, whose method and love of do- 
mestic life admirably fitted him to manage a large 
establishment. They evidently lived together on 
very excellent terms, though she sometimes was dis- 
posed to (pnu-rel with him about the grand-children, 
who he insisted (and he always carried the point) 
should ha under thorough disciplinarians, as well aa 
competent teachers, when they were sent from home 



BUT ONE WARirmOTON. '2D 

It was a source of i'ca;ret tliat slie bore no cliildren 
to him, l>ut an able writer lias said : " Providence left 
liini cliildless that he might be the father of his 
country." it is hard to judge whether or not it \vas 
a blessing; but it certainly has not detracted from his 
o-reatness that he left no successor to his fame. On 

o 

the contrary, it is all the brigliter from having no 
cloud to dim the solitary grandeur of his s])otless 
UMme. Few sons of truly great and illusti-icnis men 
have ever reflected honor upon the father, and many 
have done otherwise. When we consider how many 
representative men of the world, in all nations and 
ages, have been burdened and oppressed with the 
luimiliating conduct of their children, let it Ix; a 
source of joy, rather than of regret, that there was 
but one Washington, either ])y the ties of consan- 
guinity or the will of Providence. This ])ure char- 
acter was never marred by any im2)erfect type of his 
own, and in his life we recognize the fact that occa- 
sionally, in great emergencies, God lifts uu a man for 
tlie deed ; when the career is ended, the model, though 
not the example, is lost to tlie woi-ld. 

Mrs. Washino-ton's two childiH3n were with her 
the ))right years of her life intei'vening between her 
marriage and the Kevolution. Iler daughter Avas fast; 
l)udding into womanhood, and how beautiful, thought 
tlie loving mother, were the delicate outlines of her 
fair yoimg face! Airy castles and visionjiry scencis 
of s])len(h)r reared their grand pi-o])oi'tions in tlie 
twilight-clouds of her imagination; and in tli(i sun- 
light of security she saw not, or, if pei'chance did <\(t- 



MARTHA WASHINGTON. 



2Q MARTHA WA«iUiNtTavx>. 

fine, the indistinct outlines of the spectre, grim and 
gaunt, heeded not its significant appearance at hu 



festive board. 



I^a r natural channs of youth freshness and 
wor dly possession., the n.other's idol the l>rothers 
^llynitefand father's cherished daughter, d>ed and 
the li-h of the house went out, and a wad ot 
antu si filled the air as the night winds rushed lun-- 
"yhiMy past that desolate home on the shore of the 



"""ftp^pose was born out of that grief- a 
self-ab'egated firmness to rise above ^hepjon^e 
lamentations of selfish sorrow; and tl^^^^ •'^*^' 
ward for lon<. and saddened years, a shadow of a 
fori woe rested upon that quiet place, the poor 

oved it better than ever before, and meek char.ty 
found more willing hands than in the days of reck- 
SaiTiness. Rdigion, too, and winnmg sympathy, 

softened tlie poignant grief, and 

" The fates unwound tlie ball of time, 
And dealt it out to man." 

The cannon of the Continental Militia at Lexing- 

ton belched forth its hoarse sound on the mormng of 

ie li of April, 1775, as in the gray twd.ght ot 

^J^hing aiy ; W of '-t: ^Sfech^ If 
demand the '^^^Pf^^:;;^,^ .tlu A the distant forests, 
those reports went nngmg t^uou 
and fleetest couriers earned its *> !'»-^ '^'^y , ^j 
rippling waves of the Potomac calhng «'Y' ,!"«"! 
freedom to arms. Mrs. Washington heard the ^^ar. 



GIVES HUSBAND AND SON TO IIEK COUNTRY. 27 

cry. and felt that tlie absence of lier liusbaiid was 
now indefinite ; for she knew that from his post in 
the councils of the nation he would go to serve liis 
country in the field. Nor was she mistaken in her 
conclusions. 

She met the Commander-in-chief at his winter 
headquarters at Cambridge, after an absence of nearly 
a year, in December, 1775, and continued during the 
Revolution to go each winter to his headquarters. In 
early spring she retnrneA to her home, leaving be- 
hind her only child, whose desire to remain with hia 
adopted father obtained from her a reluctant consent. 
'' For usefulness and honor she had I'eared him to 
manhood, and to her country she now resigned this 
last lingering scion of maternal hope and joy," and 
returned to Mount Vernon accompanied by her 
dauo-hter-in-law.* 

The next winter she passed at Morristown, New 
Jersey, where she experienced some of the real hard- 
ships and sufferings of camp-life. The previous sea- 
son, at Cambridge, the ofiicers and their families had 
resided in the mansions of the Tories, who had de- 
serted tliem to join the British ; but at Morristown 
she occupied a small frame-house, without any con- 
venience or comforts, and, as before, returned in the 
■spring, with her daughter-in-law and children. 

Valley Forge, during the last months of 1777 and 
the early part of 1778, was the scene of the severest 

* Mr. Parke Custia was married to Miss Neily Calvert the 3rd of 
February 1774. 



28 MAETHA WASHINGTON". 

sufferings, replete with more terrible want than any 
ever known in the history of the Colonies.* 

During all this season of horrors, Mrs. Washington 
remained with her husband, trying to comfort and 
animate him in the midst of his trials. Succeeding 
years brought the same routine, and victory and de- 
feat walked ofttimes hand in hand. October of 1781 
brought " gla,d tidings of great joy " in the caj)ture 
of Yorktown, and nothing seemed to defer the long 
anticipated return of General Washington to his 
family and friends. 

Ere yet the shouts of victory rang out upon the 
listening ear of a continent. Colonel Custis was borne 
from the scene of triumph to a village in New Kent 
County to die, and soon the messenger startled the 
inmates of Mount Vernon with the mournful intelli- 
gence. Washington, amid the intense joy of his 
troops, could not conceal his anxious feelings for this 
deeply loved son of his adoption, and his heart went 
out to his crushed wife. " He left Yorktown on the 
5th of November, and reached, the same day, the 
residence of his old friend. Colonel Bassett. He ar- 
rived just in time to receive the last breath of John 
Parke Custis, as he had several years previously ren- 
dered tender and pious offices at the death-bed of his 



* Six miles above Morristown, Peiisylvania, and twenty from Phil- 
adelphia, on the Schuylkill River, is the deep hollow known as Valley 
Forge. It is situated at the mouth of Valley Creek, and on either side 
rise the mountains above this lonely spot. To the fact that in thia 
valley there had onc-j been several forges, it owes its name, and here 
Washington found winter quarters tor his suflering army 



A MOURNING FAMILY. 29 

sister, Miss Custis. The deceased liad heen tlie object 
of Wasliington's care from eliildliood, and l^een cLer- 
islied l)y liim with paternal affection. Keared under 
bis guidance and instructions, lie liad been fitted to 
take a part in the public concerns of his country, 
and had acquitted himself with credit as a member 
of the Virginia Legislature. He was but twenty- 
eight years old at the time of his death, and left a 
widow and four young children. It was an unex- 
pected event, and the dying-scene was rendered 
peculiarly affecting from the presence of the mother 
and wife of the deceased. - Washington remained 
several days at Eltham to comfort them in their 
affliction. As a consolation to Mrs. Washing^ton in 
her bereavement, he adopted the two youngest chil- 
dren of the deceased, a boy and girl, who thenceforth 
formed a part of his immediate family." 

Mrs. Washino'ton did not know that her husband 
had left the scene of his triumph, until he suddenly 
appeared in the room of death ; and it calmed her to 
have his presence in so trying an hour. He returned 
with the sad mourners to Mount Vernon, and mingled 
with those two sorrowful hearts the tears of his own 
sad soul. 

The world and its cares called him hence, and he 
turned away from his quiet home to meet the de- 
mands of his country for his services. Congress re- 
ceived him in Philadelphia with distinguished honors, 
and he everywhere was the recipient of his country's 
love and reverence. 

Called from his retirement to preside over the 



so MARTHA WASHINGTON. 

destinies of liis country as its first President, Wasli- 
ington immediately left Lis home and repaired to 
New York City, the seat of government.* 

Our young country demanded, in the beginning, 
that regard for forms and etiquette which would com- 
mand respect in the eyes of foreign courts ; and, act- 
iuo^ in accordance witli this desiain, the house of the 
first President was furnished with ele2:ance, and its 
routine was arranged in as formal a manner as that 
of St. James or St. Cloud. 

Always an aristocrat, Mrs. Washington's adminis- 
tration as " hostess " was but a reproduction of the 
customs and ceremonies of foreio^n heads of a:overn- 
ment, and her receptions were arranged on the plan 
of the English and French drawing-rooms. 

She assumed the duties of her position, as wife of 
the Chief Magistrate, with the twofold advantage of 
wealth and high social position, and was, in manner, 
appearance, and character, the pleasing and graceful 
representative of a class of whicli, unfortunately, the 
original is now taken from us, a lady of the olden time. 

Reared as she had been, a descendant of the 
chivalry of Virginia, who in their turn were the de- 
scendants of the English nobility — aristocratic, proud, 
and pleased with her lofty position — she brought to 
bear all the brightness of a prosperous existence, and 
her influence extended to foreign lands. 

* The journey to New York was a continued triumph. The august 
epectacle iit the bridge of Trenton brouglit tears to the eyes of the 
Chief, and forms one of the most brilliant recollections of the age of 
Wiishington. 



TUE EEPUELICAN COURT IN NEW YOllK. 31 

The levees held at the Republican Court — then 
located at No. 3 Franklin Square, New York — were 
numerously attended l)y the fashionable and refined 
of the cit}^ The rules of the establishment were 
rigorous, and persons were excluded unless in tlie 
dress required. Access was not easy, and dignified 
statelinesss reigned ov^er the mansion of the first 
President of the United States. The subjoined let- 
ter, written to Mrs. Warren soon after Mrs. Washing- 
ton's arrival at the seat of government, will present 
her views on the subject of her elevation more cor 
rectly than detached extracts from other books. 

" Your very friendly letter of last montli has 
aft'orded me much more satisfaction than all the 
formal compliments and empty ceremonies of mere 
etiquette could possibW have done. I am not apt to 
forget the feelings which have l)een inspired l)y my 
former society with good acquaintance*, nor to be 
insensible to their expressions of gratitude to the 
President ; for you know me well enough to do me 
the justice to believe that I am fond only of what 
comes from the heart. Under a conviction that the 
demonstrations of respect and affection to him origi- 
nate in that source, I cannot deny that I have taken 
some interest and pleasure in them. The difficulties 
which presented themselves to view upon his first 
entering upon the Presidency, seem thus to be in 
some measure surmounted. It is owins: to the kind- 
ness of our numerous friends in all quarters that my 
new and unwished-for situation is not a burden to 



32 MAKTHA WASHINGTON. 

me. Wlien I was mncli younger, I slioiild prol»al)ly 
have enjoyed the iimoceDt gay*ties of life as mucli aa 
most persons of ray age ; but I had long since placed 
all prospects of my future worldly happiness in the 
still enjoyment of the fireside at Mount Vernon. I 
little thought, when the war was finished, that any 
circumstances could possibly liappen which would 
call the General into public life again. I had antici- 
pated that from that moment we should be suffered 
to grow old together in solitude and tranquillity. 
That was the first and dearest wish of my heart. I 
will not, however, contemplate, with too much regret, 
disappointments that were inevitable, though his feel- 
ings and my own were in perfect unison with re- 
spect to our predilection for private life ; yet I can- 
not blame him for having acted according to his 
ideas of duty in obeying the voice of his country. 
The consciousness of having attempted to do all the 
good in his power, and the pleasure of finding his 
fellow-citizens so well satisfied with the disinterested- 
ness of his conduct, will doubtless be some compen- 
Bation for the great sacrifices which I knov/ he has 
made. Indeed, on his journey from Mount Vernon 
to this place, in his late tour through the Eastern 
States, by eveiy public and every private informa- 
tion which has come to him, I am persuaded he has 
experienced nothing to make him repent his having 
acted from what he conceives to be a sense of indis- 
pensable duty. On the contrary, all his sensibility 
has been awakened in receiving such repeated and 
unequivocal proofs of sincere regard from his coun- 



REMOVES TO PHILADELPHIA. 33 

trymen. Witli respect to myself, I sometimes think 
the arrangement is not quite as it oiiglit to have 
been ; that I, who had mucli rather be at home, 
should occupy a place with which a great many 
younger and gayer women would be extremely 
pleased. As my grand-children and domestic con- 
nections make up a great portion of the felicity 
which I looked for in this world, I shall hardly be 
able to find any substitute that will indemnify me 
for the loss of such endearing society. I do not say 
this because I feel dissatisfied with my present sta- 
tion, for every body and every thing conspire to make 
me as contented as possible in it ; yet I have learned 
too much of the vanity of human affairs to expect 
felicity from the scenes of public life. I am still de 
termiued to be cheerful and haj^py in whatever situ- 
ation I may be ; for I have also learned from experi- 
ence that the greater part of our happiness or misery 
depends on our dispositions and not on our circum- 
stances. We carry the seeds of the one or the other 
about with us in our minds, Avherever we go." 

The second year of Washington's administration, 
the seat of government was removed to Philadelphia. 
Mrs. Washington was sick when she started on the 
journey, and remained in Philadelphia until she was 
strong enough to go on to Mount Vernon. 

The late Rev. Ashbel Green, for a long time 
President of Princeton College, and one of the early 
Chaplains of Congress, in speaking of the seat of 
government, said : " After a great deal of writing and 



34 MARTHA WASHINGTON. 

talking and controversy about the permanent seat of 
Congress under the present Constitution, it was de- 
termined that Philadelphia should be honored with 
its presence for ten years, and afterward the perma- 
nent location should be in the city of Washington, 
where it now is. In the mean time, the Federal city 
was in building, and the Legislature of Pennsylvania 
voted a sum of money to build a house for the Presi- 
dent, perhaps witli some hope that this might help 
to keep the seat of the general government in the 
Capital ; for Philadelphia was then considered as the 
Capital of the State. What was lately the Univer- 
sity of Pennsylvania, was the structure erected for 
the purpose. But as soon as General Washington 
saw its dimensions, and a good while before it was 
finished, he let it be known that he would not occupy 
it, and should certainly not go to the expense of pur- 
thasing suitable furniture for such a dwelling ; for it 
13 to be understood, in those days of stern republican- 
ism, nobody thought of Congress furnishing the Presi- 
dent's house ; or if perchance such a thought did 
enter into some aristocratic head, it was too unpopu- 
lar to be uttered. President Washington therefore 
rented a house of Mr. Robert Morris, in Market 
street, between Fifth and Sixth, on the south side, 
and furnished it handsomely, but not gorgeously." 

From New York, by weary processes, the house- 
bold furniture of individuals and government prop- 
erty w\as moved. General Washington superintended 
the preparation and embarkation of all his personal 
effects, deciding the time and manner in which every 



FOEMALITY AT KECEPTIONS. 85 

article was taken or sold, and attending to all with a 
scrupulous zeal which is surprising when we considei 
his public position. His letters to Mr. Lear are aa 
characteristic of his private life as was his career as 
founder of the Kepublic. On Saturday afternoon, 
November the 28th, the President and his wife re- 
turned from Mount Vernon, and took up their resi- 
dence in the house of Mr. Morris, which the corpo- 
ration had obtained for them. They found Congress- 
men and public characters already assembled, in 
anticipation of a gay and brilliant season. Mrs. 
Washington held her drawing-rooms on Friday even- 
ing of each week ; company assembled early and 
retired before half-past ten. It is related on one 
occasion, at a levee held in New York the first year 
of the administration, that she remarked, as the hands 
on the clock approached ten, *' that her husband re- 
tired punctually at ten, and she followed very soon 
afterward." A degree of stiffness and formality ex- 
isted at those receptions that we of this age can 
scarcely understand, accustomed as we are to the 
familiarity and freedom of the present-day gather- 
ings ; but the imposing dignity of the Executive 
himself rebuked all attempts at equality, and the 
novelty of the position itself caused a general awk- 
wardness. Unlike latter-day levees, the lady of the 
mansion always sat, and the guests were arranged in 
a circle round which the President passed, speaking 
kindly to each one. It is to be regretted that no 
descriptions exist of the appearance of Mrs. Wash- 
ington at these fete evenings. Little or no attention, 



36 MARTHA WASHINGTON. 

outside of social life, was paid to sucli items as liow 
ladies dressed and what tliey appeared in, and letter- 
WTitino' was not so universal as we of modern times 
have made it ; hence there remains no source from 
whence to gather these little trifles which form part 
of every newspaper edition of the present day. The 
President always had his hair powdered, and never 
offered his hand to any one at his public receptions. 

" On the national fete days, the commencement 
of the levee was announced by the firing of a salute 
from a pair of twelve-pounders stationed not far dis- 
tant from the Presidential mansion ; and the ex-Com- 
mander-in-chief paid his former companions in arms 
the compliments to wear the old continental uniform." 
The grandchildren of Mrs. AVashington were her only 
companions during the President's long absences in 
his office ; and Mrs. Robert Morris was the most social 
visitor at the mansion. Several times mention is made 
of her presence at the side of Mrs. Washington dur- 
ing the presentations at the receptions. And at all 
the dinners by the republican Chief Magistrate, the 
venerable Robert Morris took precedence of every 
other guest, invariably conducting Mrs. Washington, 
and sitting at her right hand. At this, the meridian 
period of her life, Mrs. Washington's personal appear- 
ance was, although somewhat portly in person, fresh 
and of an as-reeable countenance. She had been a 
handsome woman thirty years before, when, on the 
t)th of January, 1759, she was married to Colonel 
Washington ; and in an admirable picture of her by 
Woolastoii, painted about the same time, we see some- 



THE DIGNITY OBSERVED BY THE PRESIDENT. 87 

thing of that pleasing grace wbicli is said to have 
been her distinction. During these years of her mar- 
ried life, she had enjoyed ample opportunity to culti- 
vate that elegance of manner for which she was con- 
spicuous, and to develop those conversational powers 
which rendered her so attractive. Washington, ever 
quiet and taciturn, depended on her ; and her tact and 
gentle womanly politeness relieved him from the 
irksome duties of hospitality Avhen business called 
him elsewhere. His first levee, the Marchioness 
D'Yuro wrote to a friend in New York, was brilliant 
beyond any thing that coukl be imagined. She 
adds : You never could have had such a drawing- 
room ; and though there was a great deal of extrava- 
gance, there was so much of Philadelphia tact in every- 
thing, that it must have been confessed the most de- 
lio'htful occasion of the kind ever known in this coun- 

Mrs. Washington at this time was fifty-eight years 
old ; but her healthful, rational habits, and the cease- 
less influence of the principles by which her life was 
habitually regulated, enabled her still to exhibit un- 
diminished her characteristic activity, usefulness, and 
cheerfulness. From the " Recollections " of a daug-h- 

o 

ter of Mrs. Binney, who resided opposite the Presi- 
dent's house, we have some interesting accounts. She 
says : " It was the General's custom frequently, when 
the day was fine, to come out to walk attended by his 
secretaries^, Mr. Lear and Major Jackson. He always 
crossed directly over from his own door to the sunny 
side of the street, and walked down." She never 



38 MARTHA WASHINGTON. 

observed tliem conversing, and often wondered and 
watclied as a child to see if any of tlie party spoke, 
but never perceived that any thing was said. He 
was always dressed in black, and all three wore cocked 
hats. " It was Mrs. Washington's custom to return 
visits on the third day, and in calling on her mother, 
she would send a footman over, ^ who would knock 
loudly and announce Mrs. Washington, who would 
then come over with Mr. Lear." " Her manners were 
very easy, pleasant, and unceremonious, with the char- 
acteristics of other Viroinia ladies." An Eno:lish 
manufacturer breakfasted with the President's family 
on the 8th of June, 1*794. "I confess," he says, "I 
was struck with awe and veneration when I recollect- 
ed that I was now in the presence of the great W^ash- 
ington, ' the noble and wise benefactor of the world,' 
as Mirabeau styles him. The President seemed very 
thoughtful, and was slow in delivering himself, which 
induced some to believe him reserved. But it was 
rather, I apprehend, the result of much reflection ; for 
he had, to me, an appearance of affability and accom- 
modation. He was at this time in his sixty-third 
year, but had very little the appearance of age, hav- 
ing been all his life so exceedingly temperate. Mrs. 
Washington herself made tea and coffee for us. On 
the table were two small plates of sliced tongue, and 
dry toast, bread and butter, but no broiled fish, as is 
the general custom here. She struck me as being 
something older than the President, though I under- 
stand they were liotli born the same year. She was 
extremely simple in her dress, and wore a very plain 
cai), with her gray hair turned up under it." 



EETUKNING TO PKIVATE LIFE. 39 

Eight years of prosperity and progression blessed 
the administration of Washington, and now the hour 
of departure was drawing near. With feelings of 
pleasure, Mrs. Washington prepared for the long-de- 
sired return to her home on the Potomac ; and when 
the dauntless robins began to sing and hardy daisies 
to bloom, tlie family set out, accompanied by the son 
of General Lafayette. Once again the wife and grand- 
mother assumed the duties congenial to her nature, 
and it was reasonable to hope that she might pass 
many years of tranquil, unalloyed happiness under 
her own vine and fig-tree. The old life was resumed, 
and the long-silent house echoed the voices of the 
young and happy. It was during this season of rest 
and quiet that Washington devoted much of his time 
to the planning and laying out of the city which bears 
his name. An account is given of his coming, on one 
occasion, fo it, and when he reached the wharf the 
cannon pealed forth a welcome. Passing along the 
Georgetown road, he halted in front of the place desig- 
nated as the " White House," so called in honor of 
the former home of his wife, and intended as a resi- 
dence for the President ; workmen were then laying 
the foundation of the building afterward burned. 
He was deeply interested in the welfare of the chosen 
seat of the government, and an amusing anecdote is 
related of his conference with David Burns, whose 
residence was on the ground south of the Presidential 
mansion, and was until recently standing. Washing- 
ton alludes to him in one of his letters as the " obsti- 
nate Mr. Burns ; " and it is related that, when the 



40 MAETIIA WASHINGTON. 

President wa,s dwelling upon the advantage he would 
derive from the sale, the old man replied, " I suppose 
you think peoj)le here are going to take every grist 
that comes from you as pure grain ; l)ut what would 
you have been if you hadn't married the widow Cus- 
tis ? " 

Mount Vernon was constantly thronged with visit 
ors ; and to the " Correspondence of Washington," 
which, during these last two years of bis life, are very 
voluminous, we are indebted for many items of public 
and private interest. But a blow was in store for the 
contented wife, which none suspected. A cold, taken 
after a long ride about the farm, produced fever and 
swelling of the throat, which, on the 14th of Decem- 
ber, 1799, resulted in the death of the deej^ly -loved 
husband. A wail of anguish went up from the na- 
tion as the direful news flew by each hut and hamlet; 
but in that hallowed room, forever consecrated, the 
brave woman who has lost hei' all, sits calmly serene. 
She suspects that he is gone, for the doctor and Mr. 
Lear are gazing at each other in mute anguish ; and 
rising from her low seat at the foot of his bed, she 
sees the limbs are composed and the breath gone. 
O agony ! what is there so fearful to a clinging 
woman's heart as the strong, loving arm that enfolded 
her, cold and stiff forever. The cover is straightened 
as he fixed it, and his face is composed after the vio- 
lent struggle ; but what is this appearance of triumph 
to the desolate widowed being, who gasps for breath 
like one drowning, as she totters to his side ? But 
the sweet features calm her ; perhaps she is thinking 



A nation's sympathy. 41 

of how he would have her do if his spirit could only 
speak. Whatever of inward peace receiving, there ia 
a determined effort at control perceptible, and she is 
saying, " 'Tis well ; all is now over. I shall soon fol- 
low him. I have no more trials to pass through." 
One long look, as if her hungry soul was obtaining 
food to feed on through all eternity, and she is assist- 
ed from the room. How full of holy memories must 
that chamber of death have been to her as she sum- 
moned courage to tuini and drink in the last look. 
The great fireside, with the smouldering embers dying 
into ashes gray — the quaint old mantle, all' covered 
with vials and appendages of a sick-apartment — their 
easy-chairs side by side, one deserted forever, and 
cruel sight to the ^^itiful sufferer — their bed, upon 
which lay her friend and companion for the last time. 
It was wrong to let her stand there and suffer so, but 
her awe-stricken appearance paralyzed the stoutest 
heart, and they only waited. A pale,' haggard look 
succeeds the fierce intensity of her gaze, and she wraps 
her shawl about her, and turns forever from all she in 
that hour lost. Another room receives her ; another 
fire is built for her ; and in the endless watches of 
that black night she masters the longings of her heart, 
and never more crossed the threshold of that chamber 
of her loved and lost. A sickening feeling of utter 
loneliness and desolation ushered in the early morn of 
the first day of her widowhood, but her resolve was 
made ; and when her loved ones saw it pained her, 
they urged her no more that she should go back to 
the Caaba of her heart. 



42 MAETJIA WASHINGTON. 

"Congress resolved, that a marble monument be 
erected by the United States, in the Capitol at the city 
of Washington, and that the family of George Wash- 
ington 1 )e requested to permit his body to be deposited 
under it, and that the monument be so designed as to 
commemorate the great events of his military and 
political life. And it farther resolved, 

" That there be a funeral procession from Congress 
Hall to the German Lutlieran Church in honor of the 
memory of General George Washington, on Thursday 
the 26th inst., and that an oration be prepared at tlie 
request of Congress, to be delivered before both 
Houses on that day, and that the President of the 
Senate and Speaker of the House of Rej'>resentative3 
be desired to request one of the members of Congress 
to prepare and deliver the same. And it further re- 
solved, 

" That the President of the United States be re- 
quested to direct a copy of the resolutions to be 
transmitted to Mrs. Washington, assuring her of the 
profound respect Congress will ever bear to her person 
and character ; of their condolence on the late afflict- 
ing Dispensation of Providence, and entreating her 
assent to the interment of the Remains of General 
George Washington in the manner expressed in the 
first resolution. 

And it further Kesolved : " That the President of 
the United States be requested to issue a Proclamation 
notifying the People throughout the United States 
the recommendation contained in the third resolution." 

In reply to the above lesolutions which weie 



MOUNT VERNON" THE MONUMENT. 43 

transmitted by the President (Jolin Adams) on tlie 
23d Dec, 1799, Mrs. Washington says: 

" Mount Verxon, Dec. 31s^, 1799. 

" Sir : While I feel with keenest anguish the late 
dispensation of Divine Providence, I cannot be in 
sensible to the mournful tributes of respect and 
veneration which are paid to the memory of my dear, 
deceased husband, and as his best services and most 
anxious wishes were always devoted to the welfare 
and happiness of his country, to know that they were 
truly appreciated and gratefully remembered, aifords 
no inconsiderable consolation. 

" Tauglit by that great example which I have so 
long had before me, never to opj)ose my private wishes 
to the public will, I must consent to the request made 
by Congress which you have had the goodness to 
transmit to me, and in doing this I need not, I cannot 
say, what a sacrifice of individual feeling I make to a 
sense of public duty. 

" With grateful acknowledgments and unfeigned 
thanks for the personal respects and evidences of con- 
dolence expressed by Congress and yourself, 
" I remain, very respectfully, 

" Your most obedient and humble servant, 
'• Martha Washington.'" 

But this pain might have been spared her, for the 
monument was never erected, and the remains are 
Btill at Mount Vernon their most fitting resting-place. 

The twofold duties of life pressed constantly upon 



44 MAKTIIA AN^ASinNGTON. 

her, nor did slie shirk any claim. Yet the compressed 
lip, and the ofttimes quivering eyelid betrayed the 
restless moanino^s of her acliino: heart. 

It has beeu remarked that she resembled Wash- 
ington in manners and person ; she was like him as 
every weaker nature is like a stronger one living in 
close relationship. She received from his stronger 
will his influences, and he impressed her with his 
views so thoroughly that she could not distinguish her 
own. Relying on his guidance in every thing, she 
studied his features until her softer lineaments imper- 
ceptibly grew like his, and the tones of her voice 
sounded wonderfully similar. Imbibing the senti- 
ments and teachings of such a nature, her own life was 
ennobled and his rendered happy. 

In the engraving we have before us, taken while 
in the Executive Mansion, we trace the gradual devel- 
opment of her life. All tbe way through it has 
counted more of bliss than of sorrow, and the calm 
contentment of the face in repose speaks of a heart 
full of peace and pleasantness. It is not the coun- 
tenance of a gay or sunny-liearted woman, nay, rather 
the well-reflected satisfaction of an inward faith in her 
religion, and confidence in and dependence on the hus- 
band in whom she had so long trusted. How full of 
sympathy and kindness of heart is that serene face, and 
how instinctively we would trust it ! Sustained as 
she was by her deep devotional piety, and shielded by 
the protecting arm of her husband, she grew in spirit- 
ual development and fondly believed herself strong 
and self-reliant. But when she was tested, when the 



HER HOME IDOLS BKOKElSr. 45 

earthly support was removed, tlie inward strength 
was insufficient, and she pined under the loss until she 
died. 

"Few women have ever figured in the great drama 
of life amid scenes so varied and imposing, with so 
few faults and so many virtues as the subject of this 
sketch. Identified with the 'Father of his Country' 
in the great events which led to the establishment of 
a nation's independence, Mrs. Washington necessarily 
partook much of his thoughts, his councils, and his 
views. Often at his side in thos€ awful times that tried 
his soul, her cheerfulness soothed his anxieties, her 
firmness inspired confidence, while her devotional piety 
toward the Supreme Being enabled her to discern a 
ray of hope amid the darkness of a horizon clouded 
by despair." She had lived through the "five grand 
acts of the drama of American Independence, '' had 
witnessed its prelude and its closing tableaux, and 
stood waiting to iiear the swell of the pean she was yet to 
sing in heaven. Her life was passed in seasons of dark- 
ness, as of glorious, refulgent liappiness, and was con- 
temporaneous with some of the greatest minds that 
will ever shine out from any century. Her sphere was 
limited entirely to social occupations, and possessing 
wealth and position she gratified her taste. Had her 
character been a decided one, it would have stamped 
the age in which she flourished, for, as there never was 
but one Washington, so there will never come a time 
when there will be the same opportunities as Mrs. 
Washington had for winning a name and an individu- 
vility. But she did not aspire to any nobler ambition 



46 MARTHA WASHINGTON. 

than merely to perform the duties of her home, and 
she lives in the memories of her descendants, and in 
the hearts of the people of the United States, as the 
wife of the illustrious Father of his Country, and the 
first in position of the women of the Revolution. 

The death of her husband was the last event of 
Mrs. Washington's life. It shattered her nerves and 
broke her heart. She never recovered from it. The 
shaft of agony which had buried itself in her soul was 
never removed. Fate had now dealt the last deadly 
blow to the earthly happiness of Mrs. Washington ! 
Her children, their father, the faithful, affectionate, 
sympathizing friend and counsellor with whom through 
unnumbered years she had stood side l)y side in many 
and grievous trials, dangers, and sorrows — all were 
gone ! It was useless to strive to be courageous, a 
glance at the low, narrow vault under the side of the 
hill unnerved her. She stood, the desolate survivor, 
like a lone sentinel upon a deserted battle-field, regard- 
ing in mute despair the fatal destruction of hope, and 
love, and joy. Through all time that Saturday night 
would be the closing scene of her life, even though her 
existence should be lengthened to a span of years. 

" The memory of his faintest tone, 
In the deep midnight came npon her soul, 
And cheered the passing hours so sad, so lone, 

As on they rolled." 

Without religious faith she would have been haughty, 
reserved, and indolent, and with a less noble husband 
could never liave been as even-tempered and concilia 



A LIFE OF LOVE. 



47 



tory as slie was. But all of life was love to ber ; and 
all of our memory of her is beautiful harmony. 

Thirty months numbered themselves among eter- 
nity's uncounted years, and it became apparent to all 
that another death-scene was to be enacted, and the 
lonely occupant of the room above that other chamber 
of dissolution, was reaching the goal of its long hoped- 
for desire. The gentle spirit was panting to free it- 
self, and the glad light in the dim eye asserted the 
pleasure experienced in the knowledge of the coming 
change. 

For many months Mrs. Washington had been 
growing more gloomy and silent than ever before, and 
the friends who gathered about her called her actions 
strange and incomprehensible. Slie staid much alone, 
and declined every ofter of company, but toward the 
last the truth flashed upon her that she, too, was going, 
and her heart grew young again. Blessing all about 
her, she sank quietly to rest, in the seventy-first year 
of her age, and the third of her widowhood. '' In 
the spring of 1801, Martha Washington descended 
to the grave, cheered by the prospect of a blessed 
immortality, and mourned by the millions of a mighty 
empire." 

Her resting-place beside her husband is, like Mecca 
and Jerusalem, the resort of the travellers of all na- 
tions, who, wandering in its hallowed precincts, imbibe 
anew admiration and veneration for the immortal ge- 
nius, whose name is traced in imperishable remem- 
brance in the hearts of his grateful countrymen. Side 
by side their bodies lie crumbling away, while their 



48 MAKTIIA "WASHINGTON". 

spirits, through all the ramificniions of an eternal fu- 
ture, "wend their wa}^ to the Author and Source of 
their being. The placid Potomac kisses the banks of 
that precious domain, while the ripples of the reced- 
ing tide utter a mournful sound as it quits the side of 
the stream, hallowed forevei*. 

The temptation to see this historic and romantic 
home of the most beloved of the nation's dead "was 
not to be resisted, and in company with one of the few 
surviving relatives who bears that honored name, we 
started to the steamer. Although the weather was 
cold and disagreeable, with a threatening aspect of a 
snow-storm, we found the little vessel filled with pil- 
grims, bound to the tomb of Washington. This trip 
is one of intense interest, and particularly since the 
events of the late war have given to all the locality 
additional attraction. Arlington, Alexandria, and Fort 
Washington ! what memories are stirred by mention 
of these names, and the remembrance is acute when we 
stand face to face with such objects. Alexandria, wjth 
its old moss-covered houses and ancient gnarled trees, 
visibly impresses one with its claims to respect. The 
old commonwealth is dear to every generous American, 
whether of northern or southern birth, but more espe- 
cially to the pe'-^ple of the south whose ancestors fond- 
ly termed it the " motherland," and the refrain of 
whose song was 

" Ho-w dear to this lieart are the scenes of my childhood, 
When fond recollection presents them to view I 
The orchard, the meadow, tlie deep-tangled wild-wood 
And every loved spot which uiy infancy knew 1 



A AaSlT TO AIOUNT VEKNON. 49 

The wide-spreading pcml, and the mill that stood hy it. 
The briilge, and the. rock, wliere the catnract fell. 

The cot of my fnthor, the dairy-houso nigh it, 
And e'en the rude hucket tliat hung in the well." 

Far up the narrow quiet streets I lo )ked, and discern- 
ed in the distance a veritable oscillating arm of a well, 
and fancy quickly a-lded the " old oaken bucket, the 
iron bound bucket, wliich hung in the well.'^ Ifc wa? 
the venerable look of the place which appealed strong- 
est to the senses, and the fact that it is long past a cen- 
tury old, its foundation having been laid in 17-i8. As 
the boat anchored at the wharf to put off passengers, 
I gazed wistfully up those streets through which 
Washington had often passed, and looked in vain to 
see some " vast and venerable pile, so old it seemed 
only not to fall," but the residences of mo3t of tJie old 
inhabitants are the al^odes of wealth, and they exhibit 
evidences of care and preservation. 

Alexandria was early a place of some note, for Cve 
colonial governors met here by appointment, in 1755, 
to take measures with General Braddock respecting his 
expedition to the West. " That expedition proceeded 
from Alexandria, and tradition still points to the site 
on which now stands the olden Episcopal Church (but 
then, in the woods), as the spot where he pitched his 
tent, while the road over the western hills by which 
his army withdrew, long bore the name of this unfoi-- 
tunate commander. But the reminiscences which the 
Alexandrians most cherish are those which associate 
their town with the domestic attachments and hal^its 
of Washington, and the stranger is still painted to the 
3 



50 MAETIIA WASHINGTON. 

cliiu'cli of wbicli lie was vestryman ; to the pew in 
whicli lie customarily sate ; and many sti'iking memo, 
rials of his varied life are carefully preserved." 

That old chui'ch where Washington and his wife 
were wont to worship, how tenderly we look upon it, 
and with what hallowed feelings ! All the common- 
place thoughts that fill our minds every day are laid 
aside, while we contemplate the character of the man 
who has stamped his image in the hearts of freemen 
throuo-hont the world. There is another church at 
which one feels these ennobling heart-throbs, and 
which I confess moved me as sensibly, and that is the 
little Dutch church in "Sleepy Hollow," once the 
shrine at which Washington Irving offered the adora- 
tion of his guileless heart. His beautifully expressed 
admiration of Washington possibly occasioned the con- 
stant comparison, and to me these two temples are as 
inseparable as the memories of these great men are 
linked. 

The 'weather, which had been indicative all day of 
a storm, cleared off as we approached Mount Vernon, 
and as we were leaving the boat, it shone brightly 
upon us. Winding round the hill, following a narrow 
pathway, we leached the tomb before the persons who 
had taken the carriage-way came in view, but prefer- 
ling to examine it last, that we might be more careful, 
we continued the meandering path to the front of the 
liouse. It had been the home, in early youth, of the 
person who accompanied us, and, listening to her ex- 
planations and descriptions, we felt an interest which 
we could not otherwise summon. The house is bare 



HALLOWED ASSOCIATIOISrS. 51 

of any furniture whatever, save a small quantity owned 
by the persons who live there, and on a winter's day 
looked cheerless and uninviting. " The central part 
of Mount Vernon house was built by Lawrence Wash- 
ington, brother to the General ; the wings were ad- 
ded )>y the General, and the whole named after Admi- 
ral Vernon, under whom Lawi'ence Washington had 
served." The dining-room on the right contains the 
Italian marble mantle-piece sent from Italy to General 
Washington. I feel ashamed to add, it is cased in 
wire-work to prevent its being demolished by in- 
judicious, not to say criminal visitors. The rooms are 
not large, with the exception of the one mentioned 
above, which is spacious ; the quaint, old wainscoting 
and wrought cornices are curious, and in harmony with 
the adornments of the mausiou. "The whole house 
presents a curious spectacle. Every thing reminds one 
of forme]' days; and in treading the halls of Mount Ver- 
non, the mind reverts incessantly to that majestic form, 
whose shadow, cast upon those very walls, seems to the 
mind's eye ready to start before us into life," The 
piazza reaches from the ground to the eaves, of the 
roof, and is guarded on the top by a bright and taste- 
ful balustrade ; the pillars are large and present a sim» 
pie and grand idea to the mind. Beneath tliis porch 
the Father of his Country was accustomed to walk, 
and the ancient stones, to hearts of enthusiasm, are 
full of deep and meditative interest. 

The room in which he died is small and now be- 
reft of every thing save the mantle-piece; just above 
is the apartment in which she breathed her dying 



52 MARTHA WASIIIISGTOJS". 

blessing. A narrow stair-case leads from the door of 
liis room, wliicli was never entered by her after hig 
deatli. The greeu-hoiise, once the pride of Mrs. 
Washington, has since been burned, and there remains 
but a very small one, put together carelessly to pro- 
tect the few rare plants remaining. In front of the 
house (I speak of the fronts facing the orchards, and not 
the river, each of which are alike very beautiful), is a 
spacious lawn surrounded by serpentine walks. On 
either side, brick walls, all covered with ivy and ancient 
moss, enclose gardens. The one on the right of the 
house was once filled with costly ornamental plants 
from the tropical climes, and in which was the green- 
house ; but the box trees have o-rowu hiijh and irresfu- 
iar, and the creepers are running wild over what hardy 
rose bushes still survive to tell of a past existence of 
care and beauty. In the life-time of Mrs. Washington, 
her home must have been very beautiful, "ere yet 
time''s effacing fingers had traced the lines where beauty 
lingered." It is even now a splendid old place, but 
rapidly losing the interest it once had. The estate has 
passed out of the family, and the furniture has been 
removed by descendants, to whom it was given : much 
that lent a charm to the place is gone, and the only in- 
teresting object, save the interior of the mansion itself, 
is the key of the Bastile, presented by Lafayette, and 
hanging in a case on the wall. Portions of the house 
are closed, and the stairway in the front hall is barri- 
caded to prevent the intrusion of visitors. The room 
in which Mrs. Washington died, just above the one 
occupied by her husband, was locked, and Ave did not 



MEMOKIES OF THE PxVST. 53 

view tlie room in wliicli slie suffered so silently, ancl 
from which her freed spirit sought its friend and mate. 

The small windows and low ceilings, together wnth 
the many little closets and dark passage-ways, strike 
one strangely who is accustomed to the mansions of 
modern times ; but these old homesteads are numerous 
throughout the " Old Dominion," and are the most 
precious of worldly possessions to the descendants of 
worthy families. There must be more than twenty 
apartments, most of them small and plain in finish. 
The narrow doors and wide fire-places are the ensigns 
of a past age and many years of change, but are elo- 
quent in their obsoleteness. 

The library which ordinarily is the most interest 
ing room in any house, should be doubly so in this 
home of Washington's; but, bare of all save the empty 
cases in the w^^Jl, it is the gloomiest of all. Books all 
gone, and the occupation of the room by the present 
residents deprives it of any attractions it might other- 
wise have. Here, early in the morning and late at 
night, he worked continuously, keeping up his increas- 
ing correspondence and- managing his vast respon- 
sibilities. 

Murmurs of another war reached him as he sat at 
his table planning rural improvements, and from this 
room he wrote accepting the position no other could 
fill while he lived. 

Here death found him, the night before his last 
illness, when cold and hoarse he came in from his long 
ride, and warmed himself by his library fire. That 
night he went up to his room over this favorite study, 



54 MAKTIIA WASHINGTON. 

and said iu reply to a member of his family as he 
passed out, who urged him to do something for it, 
" No, you kno w I never take any thing for a cold. 
Let it go as it came." 

The winds and rains of sixty-eight years have 
beaten upon that sacred home on the high banks of 
the silvery waters beneath, since the widowed, weary 
wife was laid to rest beside her noble dead, and the 
snows of winter and storms of summer have left its 
weather-worn and stained front lookino' like some 
ghost of other days left alone to tell of its former life 
and beauty. In its lonely grandeur it stands appeal- 
ing to us for that reverence born of sentiments, stirred 
by the recollections of the great and good. 

I could not resist the feelings of gloomy depression 
as we passed out the front toward the river, and took 
the path leading to the tomb. Far down the side of 
the hill, perched on a knoll and surrounded by trees, 
I saw a summer-house and the walk leading by many 
angles down to it. The view of the river is said to 
be fine from this point, but we did not undertake 
the difficulties of getting to it. The wooden steps 
constructed across the ravines are fast sinking to ruin, 
and the swollen stream from the side of the hill dash- 
ing against them, was distinctly audible to us as we 
stood far above. The swallows and bats seemed to 
have built their nests in its forsaken interior, and we 
were not inclined to molest them. 

I looked back at the old homestead endeared to 
every American, and stamped upon memory each 
portion of its outlines. 



MOUNT VERNON AND WOOLFOKt's KOOST. 55 

High, above me, the small cupalo sported its little 
glittering weather-vane as brilliant as though it had 
been gilded but yesterday. Plere again was an object 
which unconsciously associated Washington with his 
namesake, Washington Irving. In the pleasant sum- 
mer-time I had stood in front of the little " Wool fort's 
Roost," and enjoyed to the finest fibre of my nature its 
lovely simplicity. Above it, too, a little weather-cock 
coquetted with the wind as it swept down fi'ora Tap- 
pan Zee, the same said to have been carefully removed 
from the Vander Hayden palace at Albany, and placed 
there by tender hands long years ago. Upon the side 
of the hill I had stopped then as now, and looked 
back at the house above me, embosomed in vines inter- 
spersed with delicately tinted fuchsias. 

Even as I was standing now looking for the first and 
perhaps the last time upon Mount Vernon, so in the 
beautiful harvest month I had gazed upon the Hudson 
spread out like a vast panorama with its graceful 
yachts and swift schooners, and descended the winding 
path to the water's edge. But Mount Vernon was 
dressed in winter's dreariness, and its desolate silence 
oppressed rather than elevated the feelings. It is a 
fit place for meditation and communion, and to a 
spiritual nature the influences of the ancient home are 
elevating and full of harmony. When the only ap- 
proach was by conveyance from Alexandria, the visi- 
tors were not so numerous as since the days of a daily 
steamer from Vfashington City, and much of the 
solemnity usually felt for so renowned a spot is marred 
by the coarse remark and thoughtless acts of the 
mau}^ who saunter through the grounds. 



56 JIAIITIIA WASIIIJSTGTOj^f. 

A gay party of idlers liiid arranged tlieir eatables 
upon the stone steps of the piazza, and sat in the sun 
shine laughing merrily. Even those old rocks smoothly 
worn, whei-e so often had stood the greatest of men, 
were not hallowed nor protected from the selfish con- 
venience of unrefined people. Callous, indeed, must be 
the heart which could walk unmoved through so 
endeared a scene. To tread the haunts where " men 
have thought and acted great " is ennobling to sensi- 
tive 02'gauizations, and to linger over evidences of 
olden times inspires all generous minds with enthu- 
siasm. 

The grounds roll downward from the mansion 
house, and in a green hollow midway between that 
and the river, and about one hundred and fifty yards 
west from the summer house, and thirty rods from the 
house is the vault where reposed the remains of Wash- 
ington and Martha his wife. Now the tomb contains 
about thirty members of his family, and is sealed up, 
and in front of the main vault, enclosed by an iron 
railing, are the two sarcophagi containing the ashes of 
husband and wife. " A melancholy glory kindles 
around that cold pile of marble," and we stood mute in 
thought. 

But before reaching it we pass the old vault where 
for a few years he was buried. The few cedars on it 
are ^vithered and the door stands open, presenting a 
desolate appearance. With vines and flowers, and leafy 
trees filled with singing birds, this sight would perhaps 
be less chilling ; but the barren aspects of nature 
united with the solemn stillness of the country, con- 



LAFAYETTIG AT 'I'lIK TOMB OF WArtUINGTOJM". o7 

spired to fveozo everj^ tlionghi of life and 1)eauf;y, and 
the mind dw^clt upon tlie rust of decay. 

Lafayette stopped at Mount Vernon when about to 
return to France after his visit to this country, in 1820, 
having reserved for the hist liis visit to Wasliiiigton's 
Toni1), and tlic scene is thus described ])y Mr. Seward 
in his Life of John Quincy Adams : 

" When the boat came opposite the tomi) of Wash- 
ington, at Mount Vernon, it pnused in its progress, 
Lafayette arose. The wonders whicli he had per- 
foriiied for a man of his age, in successfully acconi- 
])lishing labors enougli to have tested his meridian 
vigor, wlioso animation rather resembled the spring 
\]u\n the winter of life, now seemed unequal to the 
tnslc he was about to perform — to take a last look at 
' The Tomb of Washington ! ' 

" He advanced to the effort. A silence the most 
impressive reigned around, till the strains of sweet 
and plaintive music completed the grandeur and sacred 
solemnity of the scene. All Iiearts beat in unison 
with the throbbings of the veteran's bosom, as he 
looked for the last time on the sepulchre which con- 
tained the ashes of tlie first of men ! He si)oke not, 
but ai)peared absorbed in the mighty recoUectiona 
which the place and the occasion inspired." 

During the summer of 1860, Albert, Prince of 
Wales, and heir apparent to the Throne of England, 
visited, m company with President Buchanan, tlie 
tomb of Washington. Here amid the gorgeous beau- 
ties of a southern summer, the grandson of George the 
Third forgot his royalty in th(3 presence of departed 



58 MARTHA WASHINGTON. 

■\voi'tli ; and l)ent liis knee in awe before ci mere hand- 
ful of aslies, wliicb, but for the cold marble encom- 
passing them, would be blown to the four winds of 
the earth. It was a stran<;>:e siofht to see that brio-ht 
youthful form kneeling before the tomb of the Fa- 
ther of his Country, and attesting his appreciation 
of the great spirit which more than any other wrested 
its broad domains from him. But a strono-er link 
than mere possessions animated the feelings, and bound 
that royal scion to the Patriot's grave. Love of 
Liberty was the magic wand ^vhich kindled in the 
breast of the stranger adoration for the memor}'' of 
the departed, and when he turned to leave that place 
of sacredness, eyes not always used to weeping, were 
moist with fnlliuo: tears. 

Steal tliily the years go by, and we wist not they 
are passing, yet the muffled and hoarse voice of a cen- 
tury astounds us with its parting. The centennial 
birthdays have been celebrated ; soon we approach 
the hundredth anniversary of victories won and inde- 
pendence achieved. If the glad, free spirits of the 
Chief and his companion are permitted to review their 
earthly pilgrimage, let it be -a source of gratification 
to us to know they smile npon a Bepublic of peace. 
Their bodies we guard, while they crumbled away in 
the bosom of their birth-place, and as long as a son of 
America remains a freeman, it will be a well-spring 
of inspiration to feel that Virginia contains the Paler' 
PatricB and the woman immortalized by Iiis love. 




A . 



a nonj 



11. 

ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

Abigail Smith, tlie daiigliter of a New England 
Congregationalist minister, was born at Weymouth, in 
1744. Tier fotliei* was the settled pastor of that place 
for more than forty years, and her grandfather was 
also a minister of the same denomination in a neigh- 
boring town. 

The younger years of her life were passed in the 
quiet seclusion of her grandfather's house ; and under 
the instructions of her grandmother, she imbibed most 
of the lessons which were the most deeply impressed 
upon her mind. " I have not forgotten," she says in 
a letter to her own daughter, in the year 1795, "the 
excellent lessons which I received from my grand- 
mother at a very early period of life ; I frequently 
think they made a more durable impression upon my 
mind than those which I received from my own 
parents."' This tribute is due to the memory of those 
virtues, the sweet remembrance of which will flourish, 
though she has long slept with her ancestors. 

Separated from the young membei-s of her own 
family, and never subjected to the ordinary school 
routine, her imaginative faculties bid fair to develop at 
the expense of her judgment, but the austere religion 
of her ancestors, and tlie daily exanqDle of strict com- 
pliance to forms, forbade the too great indulgence of 
fancy. " Slie liad many relations both on the father's 



GO ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

and motlier's side, and with tliese she was upon a? 
intimate terras as circnmstanees would allow. The 
distances l)et\yeeu the homes of the young people was, 
however, too great, and the means of their parents too 
narrow, to admit of very frequent personal intercourse, 
the substitute for which was a i*apid interchange of writ- 
ten communication." " The women of the last century,'^ 
observes ^ir. Charles Francis Adams in his memoir of 
his grandmother, " were more remarkable for their 
letter-writing propensities, than the novel-reading and 
mo]'e pretending daughters of this era : their field 
was larger, and the stirring events of the times made 
it an object of more interest. Now, the close connec- 
tion between all parts of this country, and rapid means 
of transraittino' iutellio-ence throuerh the medium of 
telegraphs and newspapers, renders the slower process 
of writing letters unnecessary, save in instances of 
private imj)ortauce. The frugal habits of the sparsely 
settled country afforded little material for the fashion- 
able chit-chat which forms so large a part of the social 
life of to-day, and the limited education of woman 
was another drawback to the indulgence of a pleasure 
in which they really excelled. Upon what, then, do 
we base the assertion that they were remarkable for 
their habits of writing. Even though self-taught, the 
young ladies of Massachusetts were certainly readers, 
and their taste was not for the feeble and nerveless 
sentiments, but was derived from the deepest wells of 
English literature. Almost every house in the Colony 
possessed some old heir-looms in the shape of standard 
books, even if the number was limited to the Bible 



EAllLY EDUCATIOIC. Gl 

and dictionary. Many, especially minister?, could dis- 
play relics of their English ancestors' intelligence in 
the libraries handed down to them, and the study of 
their contents was evident in many of the grave cor- 
respondences of that early time."" To learning, in the 
ordinary sense of that term, she could make no claim. 
She did not enjoy an opportunity to acquire even such 
as there might have been, for the delicate state of her 
health forbade the idea of sending her away from home 
to obtain them. In speaking of her deficiencies, the year 
before her death, she says : " My early education did 
not partake of the abundant opportunity which the 
present day oifers, and which even our common coun- 
try schools now afford. I never ivas sent to any school^ 
I was always sick." Although Massachusetts ranked 
then, as it does now, first in point of educational facili- 
ties, it is certainly remarkable that the woman received 
such entire neglect. '' It is not im]3ossible," adds Mr. 
Adams, " that the early example of Mrs. Hutchison, 
and the difficulties in which the public exercise of her 
gifts involved the Colony, had established in the i)ub- 
lic mind a conviction of the danger that may attend 
the meddling of women with abstruse points of doc- 
trine ; and these, however they might confound the 
strongest intellects, were nevertheless the favorite 
topics of thought and discussion in that generation." 

While the sons of a family received every possible 
advantage compatible with the means of the father, 
the daughter's interest, as far as mental development 
was concerned, was ignored. To aid the mother in 
manual household labor, and by self-denial jind in- 



62 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

creased industry to forward the welfare of the brothers, 
was the most exalted height to which any woman as- 
pired. To woman there was then no career open, no 
life-work to perform outside the narrow walls of home. 
Every idea of self-culture was swallowed np in the 
wearying routine of practical life, and what of knowl- 
edge they obtained, was from the society of the 
learned, and the eagerness with .which they treasured 
and considered the conversations of others. 

On the 20th of October, 1764, Abigail Smith was 
married to John Adams. She was at the time twenty 
years old. The match, although a suitable one in 
many respects, was not considered brilliant, since her 
ancestors were amous; the most noted of the best class 
of their day, and he was the son of a farmer of limited 
means, and as yet a lawyer without practice. " Mrs. 
Adams was the second of three daughters, whose char- 
acters were alike strong and remarkable for their 
intellectual force. The fortunes of two of them con- 
fined its influence to a sphere much more limited than 
that which fell to the lot of Mrs. Adams. Mary, the 
eldest, was married in 1762 to Hichard Cranch, au 
English emigrant, who subsequently became a Judge 
of the Court of Common Pleas in Massachusetts. 
Elizabeth, the youngest, was twice married ; first to thej 
Reverend John Shaw, minister of Haverhill, and after 
his death, to theKeverend Mr. Peabody of New Hamp- 
shire."" * * * « j,^ ^ colony founded so exclusively 
upon motives of religious zeal as IMassachnsetts was, it 
necessarily followed that the ordinary distinctions of 
society were in a great degree subverted, and that the 



THE MIISTISTEr's SUPERIORITY. 63 

leaders of the cLnrcli, tlioiigli without worhlly posses^^ 
sions to boast of, were the most in honor everywhere. 
If a festive entertainment was meditated, the minister 
was sure to be first on tlie list of those invited. If 
any assembly of citizens was hekl, he must be there to 
open the business with prayer. If a political measure 
was in agitation, he was among the first whose opinions 
was to be consulted. He was not infrequently the 
family physician. Hence the objection to Mr. Adams 
by her friends w\as founded on the fact that she was 
the daughter and grand-daughter of a minister, and 
his social superior according to the opinions of zealous 
Christians, whose prejudices were extreme toward a 
calling they deemed hardly honest. 

Ten years of quiet home life succeeded her mar- 
riage, during which time little transpired worthy of 
record. " She appears to have- passed an apparently 
very happy life, having her residence in Braiutree, or 
in Boston, according as the state of her husband's 
health, then rather impaired, or that of his professional 
practice, made the change advisable. Within this 
period she became the mother of a danghter and of 
three sons." 

" Mr. Adams was elected one of the delegates on the 
part of Massachusetts, instructed to meet persons cho- 
sen in the same manner from the other Colonies, for 
the purpose of consulting in common upon the course 
most advisable to be adopted by them." In the month 
of August, 1774, he left home in company with Sam- 
uel Adams, Thomas Cushings, and Robert Treat Paine, 
to go to Philadelphia, at which place the proposed 



64 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

assembly was to be lielcl." In two montlis, Mr. Adams 
was home again. Congress met again in May, 17 75, 
and Mr. Adams returned to Philadelphia to attend it. 
The long distance was traversed on horseback, and 
was replete with hardships. At Hartford he heard of 
the memorable incident at Lexington, only five days 
after his departure from Braintree. Up to this time, 
the trouble between the two countries had been a dis- 
pute, henceforth it resolved itself into open hostilities. 
"In November, 1*775," says Bancroft, ''Al)igail 
Smith, t]]e wife of John Adams, was at her home near 
the foot of Penn Hill, charged with the sole care of their 
little brood of children ; managing their farm ; keeping 
house with frugality, though opening her doors to the 
houseless, and giving with good will a part of her scant 
portion to the poor ; seeking work for her own hands, 
and ever busily occupied, now at the spinning wheel, now 
makinsr amends for havins: never lieen sent to school 
by learning French, though with the aid of books 
alone. Since the departure of her husband for Con- 
gress, the arrow of death had sped near her by day, 
and the pestilence that walks in darkness had entered 
her humble mansion. She herself was still weak after 
a violent illness ; her house was a iiospital in every 
part ; and such was the distress of the neighborhood, 
she could hardly find a well person to assist in looking 
after the sick. Her youngest son had been rescued 
from the grave by her nursing. Her own mother had 
been taken away, and after the austere manner of her 
forefathers, buried without prayer. Woe followed 
woe, and one affliction trod on the heels of another. 



WORDS OF PATiaOTISM. 65 

Winter was lmrr3dDg on ; during tlie day family af- 
fairs took off her attention, but her lono- evenino's, 
broken by the sound of the storm on the ocean, or the 
enemy's artillery at Boston, wei-e lonesome and melan- 
choly. Ever in the silent night ruminating on the 
love and tenderness of her departed parent, she need- 
ed the consolation of her husbands presence ; but 
when she read the king's proclamation, she willingly 
gave up her nearest friend exclusively to his perilous 
duties, and sent him her cheering message : " This in- 
telligence will make a plain path for you, though a 
dangerous one. I could not join to-day in the petitions 
of our worty pastor for a reconciliation between our 
no longer pju^ent state, but tyrant state and these 
colonies. Let us separate ; they are unworthy to be 
our brethren. Let us renounce them ; and instead of 
supplications, as formerly, for their prosperity and 
happiness, let us beseech the Almighty to blast their 
counsels and bring to naught all their devices." 

Such words of patriotism falling from the lips of a 
woman who had just buried three members of her 
household, one her own mother, and who was alone 
with her four little children within sight of the can- 
nonading at Boston, discovers a mind strong, and a 
1 spirit fearless and brave under scenes of harrowing 
distress. 

Now she was alone, and she writes to her husband, 
" the desolation of war is not so distressino; as the 
havoc made by the pestilence. Some poor parents 
are mourniwg the loss of three, four, and five children, 
and some families are wholly stripped of every mem- 



6(j ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

ber," December found Mr. Adams once more at home 
to cheer his sufferino; family, but Con<2fress demanded 
his presence, and after a stay of one month, he re« 
turned asraiu to the halls of the nation. March came^ 
and her anxious solitary life was in no wise brightened. 
The distance, in those days of slow travel and bad 
I'oads, from Boston to Philadelphia was immense, and 
letters were precious articles hard to receive. In 
speaking of the anticipated attack on Boston, she 
says : " It has been said to-morrow and to-morrow ; 
but when the dreadful to-morrow will be I know not." 
Yet even as she wrote, the first peal of the American 
guns rang out their dissonance on the chilling night 
winds, and the house shook and trembled from cellar 
to garret. It was no time for calm thoughts now, and 
she left her letter unfinished to o;o out and watch the 
lurid lights that flashed and disappeared in the dis- 
tance. Next morning she walked to Peun's Hill, 
where she sat listening to the amazing roar, and watch- 
ing the British shells as they fell round about the 
camjis of her friends. Her home at the foot of the 
hill was all her earthly wealth, and the careful hus- 
banding of each years' crop her only income ; yet while 
she ever and anon cast her eye upon it, the thoughts 
that welled into words were not of selfish repiniugs, 
but of proud expressions of high-souled patriotism. 
"The cannonade is from our army," she continues, 
" and the sight is one of the grandest in nature, and 
is of the true species of the suldime. 'Tis now an in- 
cessant roar. To-night we shall realize a more terrible 
scene still ; I wish myself w^ith you out of hearing, as 



MEETING AND PARTING. 67 

T cannot assist them, but 1 hope to give yon joy ot 
Boston, even if it is in rnins before I send this away." 
But events were not ordered as she feared, and the 
result was more glorious than she dared hope. Ar 
the summer the army lay encamped around Boston, 
and in early Fall her husband came home again, after'^ 
an absence of nearly a year. Yet his coming brought 
her no joy, since it was to announce the sad truth that 
he had been chosen to go to France. Could he take 
his wife and little ones, was the oft-recurring question. 
A small and not very good vessel had been ordered to 
take him, the British fleet knew this, and were on the 
watch to capture it. On every account it was deemed 
best he should go alone, but concluded to take his 
eldest son, John Quincy Adams, to bear him company, 
and in February, 1778, sailed for Europe. 

The loneliness of the faithful wife can hardly be 
understood by those unacquainted with the horrors of 
"war. Yet doubtless there are many, very many, who 
in the dark gloom of the past strife can record similar 
feelings of agony, and can trace a parallel in the soli- 
tary musings of this brave matron. The ordinary 
occupations of the female sex have ever confined them 
to a very limited sphere, and there is seldom an occa- 
sion. T»vhen they can with propriety extend their exer- 
tions beyond the don:iestic hearth. Only through 
the imagination can she give unlimited scope to those 
powers which the world until recently has never 
understood, and which are even now but dimly de- 
fined. Had mankind given her the privileges of a 
liberal education, and freedom to carve her own des- 



68 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

tiny, to wliat dazzling beiglits would a mind so natii. 
rally gifted as Mrs. Adams have attained ? CirciriU' 
scribed as her lot was, she has left upon the pages of 
history an enviable record, and while Americans forget 
not to do honor to her hus]>and's zeal and greatness, 
her memory lends a richer perfume, and sheds a 
radiance round the incidents of a life upon which she 
wielded so beneficial an influence. 

Ofttimes weather-bound and compelled to remain in* 
doors for days, with no society save her child i en and 
domestics, it is not strange that she should be lonely. 
Nor could her mind dwell upon any pleasing anticipa- 
tions for the future. Her husband three thousand 
miles away, a hostile army encompassing the country, 
poor and forlorn, she yet so managed and controlled 
her little estate, that it served to support her, and in 
old age, to prove the happy asylum of her honored 
family. Mr. Adams knew her exposed condition, yet 
trusted to her judgment to protect herself and little 
ones. On a former occasion he had written to her 
" in case of danger to fly to the woods,'* and now he 
could only reiterate the same advice, at the same time 
feeling that she was strong and resolute to sustain 
herself. Six months passed, and Mrs. Adams writes to 
him, " I have never received a syllable from you or my 
dear son, and it is five months since I had an oppor- 
tunity of conveying a line to you. * * * Yet I 
know not but you are less a sufferer than you would be 
to hear from us, to know our distresses, and yet be un- 
able to relieve them. The universal cry for bread to a hu- 
mane heart is painful beyond description." Mr. Adama 



A MODEL LETTER-WRITEK. 69 

retiu'iied to bis family after an absence of eighteen 
mouths, but no sooner was he established in liis happy 
home, than he was ordered to Great Britain to nego- 
tiate a peace. Two of his sons accompanied him on this 
trip. He went over night to Boston to embark early 
next day, and the sad heart left behind again, found re- 
lief in the following touching words: "■ My habitation, 
how disconsolate it looks ! my table, I sit down to it, but 
cannot swallow my food ! Oh, why was I born with so 
much sensibility, and why possessing it have I so often 
been called to struggle with it ? Were I sure you 
would not be gone, I could not withstand the tempta- 
tion of coming to town though my heart would suffer 
over again the cruel torture of separation." Soon 
after this time, she wrote to her eldest son in regard 
to his extreme reluctance at again crossing the ocean, 
and for its perspicuity and terseness, for the loftiness 
of its sentiments, and the sound logical advice in 
which it abounds, ranks itself among the first literary 
effusions of the century : 

" June, 1778. 

" My Dear Son : 'Tis almost four months since 
you left your native land and embarked udon the 
mighty waters in quest of a foreign country. Al- 
though I have not particularly written to you since, 
yet you may be assured you have constantly been 
upon ray heart and mind. 

" It is a very difficult task, my dear son, for a tender 
parent, to luring her mind to part with a child of your 
j^ears, going to a distant land ; nor could I have ao- 



70 ABIGAIL ADA]\IS. 

quiesced in sucli a sej)aratioii under any other care 
tliaii that of the most excellent parent and guardian 
who accompanied you. You have arrived at years 
capable of improving under the advantages you will 
be likely to have, if you do but properly attend to 
them. They are talents put into your hands, of w^hich 
an account will be required of you hereafter ; and, 
being possessed of one, two, or four, see to it that you 
double your number. 

" The most amiable and most useful disposition in 
a young mind is diffidence of itself; and this should 
lead you to seek advice and instruction from him who 
is your natural guardian, and will always counsel and 
direct you in the best manner, both for your present 
and future happiness. You are in possession of a 
natural good understanding, and of spirits unbroken 
by adversity and untamed with care. Improve your 
understanding by acquiring useful knowledge and vir- 
tue, such as will render you an ornament to society, 
an honor to your country, and a blessing to your 
parents. Great learning and superior abilities, should 
you ever possess them, wdll be of little value and 
small estimation, unless virtue, honor, truth, and in- 
tegrity are added to them. Adhere to those religious 
sentiments and principles which were early instilled 
into your mind, and remember that you are account- 
able to your Maker for all your words and actions. 
Let me enjoin it upon you to attend constantly and 
steadfastly to the precepts and instructions of your 
father, as you value the happiness of your mother and 
your own wtilfare. His care and attention to you ren* 



THE CKIMES OF THE TIMES. 71 

der many tilings unnecessary for me to write, wliicli I 
might otherwise do; but tlie inadvertency and heed- 
lessness of youth require line upon line and precept 
upon precept, and, when enforced by the joint effoi'ts 
of both parents, will, I hope, have a due influence 
upon your conduct ; for, dear as you are to me, I 
would much rather you should have found your grave 
in the ocean you have crossed, or that any untimely 
death crop you in your infant years, than see you an 
immoral, profligate, or graceless child. 

" You have entered early in life upon the great 
theatre of the world, which is full of temptations and 
vice of every hind. You are not wholly unacquaint- 
ed with history, in which you have read of crimes 
which your inexperienced mind could scarcely believe 
credible. You have been taua-ht to think of tliem 

o 

with horror, and to view vice as 

' A monster of so frightful mien, 
That, to be hated, needs but to be seen.' 

Yet you must keep a strict guard upon yourself, or 
the odious monster will lose its terror by becoming 
familiar to you. The modern history of our own 
times furnishes as black a list of crimes as can be 
paralleled in ancient times, even if we go back to 
Nero, Caligula, Caesar Borgia. Young as you are, the 
cruel war into which we have been compelled by the 
haughty tyrant of Britain and the bloody 'emissaries 
of his vengeance, may stamp upon your mind this cer- 
tain ti'uth, that the welfare and prosperity of all coun- 
tries, communities, and, I may add, individuals, de- 



(2 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

peiid upon their moi'iils. Tliat nation to whicli we 
were once united, as it has departed from justice, 
eluded and sul)verted the wise laws which formerly 
governed it, and suffered the w^orst of crimes to go 
unpunished, has lost its valor, wisdom, and humanity, 
and, from being the dread and terror of Europe, has 
sunk into derision and infamy. 

" But, to quit political subjects, I have been great- 
ly anxious for your safety, having never heard of the 
frigate since she sailed, till, about a week ago, a New 
York paper informed that she was taken and carried 
into Plymouth. I did not fully credit this report, 
though it gave me much uneasiness. I yesterday 
heard that a French vessel was arrived at Portsmouth, 
which brought news of the safe arrival of the Boston ; 
but this wants confirmation. I hope it will not be long 
before I shall be assured of your safety. You must 
vvi'ite me an account of your voyage, of your situation, 
and of every thing entertaining you can recollect. 

" Be assured, I am most affectionately 

" Your mother, Abigail Adams." 

The Government was organized under its present 
Constitution in April, 1789, and Mr. Adams was 
elected Vice-President. He esta1)lished himself in 
New York, and from there Mrs. Adams writes to hei 
sister, "that she would i-eturn to Braintree during 
the recess" of Congress, but the season of the year 
renders the attempt impracticable." She speaks of 
the drawing-rooms held l)y Mrs. Washington, and 
the many invitations she receives to entertainments. 



WASHINGTON AND THE SUGAE-PLUMS. 73 

After a residence of one year in New York, the seat of 
government was removed to Philadelphia. She says 
in a letter to her daughter, " that she dined witli the 
President in company with the ministers and ladies of 
the court," and that " he asked very affectionately 
after ber and the children," and " at the table picked 
the sugar plums from a cake and requested me to take 
them for Master John." In February, 1797, Mr. 
Adams succeeded President Washington, and from 
Braintee she wrote one of the most beautiful of all 
her noble effusions : 

" The sun is dressed in brightest beams 
To give thy honors to the day. 

" And may it prove an auspicious prelude to each 
ensuing season. You have this daj?- to declare your- 
self head of a nation. ' And now, O Lord my God, 
thou hast made thy servant ruler over the people ; 
give unto him an understanding heart, that he may 
know how to go out and come in before this great peo- 
ple ; that he may discern between good and bad. For 
who is able to judge this thy so great a people : ' were 
the words of a royal sovereign, and not less applicable 
to him who is invested with the Chief Magistracy of 
a nation, though he wear not a crown nor the robes of 
royalty. My thoughts and my meditations are with 
you, though personally absent ; and my petitions to 
heaven are that ' the things which make for peace may 
not be hidden from your eyes.' My feelings are not 
those of pride or ostentation upon the occasion. They 
are solemnized b}' a sense of the obligations, the im- 
4 



74 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

portaut trusts, and numerous duties connected with it. 
That you may be enabled to discharge them with 
honor to yourself, with justice and impartiality to your 
country, and with satisfaction to this great people, 
shall be the daily prayer of yours — ^" 

Soon as the funeral rites of Mrs. Adams, the ven- 
erable mother of President Adams, were performed, 
and the sad leave-takings over, Mrs. Adams set out to 
join her husband at Philadelphia, fi'om whence the 
seat of government was removed in June, 1800, to 
Washington City. 

Her impression of the place is graphically described 
in the following letter to her daughtei", Mm Smith : 

"Washington, Novembe' 31st, 1800. 

" Mt Dear Child : — 

" I arrived here on Sunday last, and without meeting 
with any accident worth noticing, except losing our- 
selves when we left Baltimore, and going eight or nine 
miles on the Frederick road, by which means we were 
obliged to go the other eight through woods, where 
we wandered two horn's without finding a guide or the 
path. Fortunately,, a straggling black came up Avith 
US, and we eniraired him as a irnide to extricate us out 
of our difficulty. But woods are all you see from Bal- 
timore until you reach the city, — which is only so in 
name. Here and there is a small cot, without a glass 
window, interspersed amongst the forests, through which 
you travel miles without seeing any human being. In 
the city there are buildings enough, if they were com- 
pact and finished, to accommodate Congress and those 



NO FIHEWOOD FOK THE MANSION. 75 

attached to it ; but as they are, and scattered as they 
are, I see no great comfort for them. The river, which 
rmis up to Alexandria, is in full view of my window, and 
I see the vessels as they pass and repass. The house is 
upon a grand and superb scale, requiring about thirty 
servants to attend and keep the apartments in proper 
ord^r, and perform the ordinary business of the house 
and stables : an establishment very well proportioned 
to the President's salary. The lighting the apartments, 
from the kitchen to parlors and chambers, is a tax in- 
deed ; and the fii'es we are obliged to keep to secure us 
from daily agues, is another very cheering comfort. To 
assist us in this great castle, and render less attendance 
necessary, bells are wholly wanting, not one single one 
being hnug through the whole house, and promises are 
all you can obtain. This is so great an inconvenience, 
that I know not what to do, or how to do. The ladies 
from Georgetown and in the city have many of them 
visited me. Yesterday I returned fifteen visits, — but 
such a place as Georgetown appears, — why our Milton 
is beautiful. But no comparisons ; — if they will put 
me up some bells, and let me have wood enough to 
keep fires, I design to be pleased. I could content 
myself almost anywhere three months ; but surroumled 
with forests, can you believe that wood is not to he 
had, because people cannot be found to cut and cart 
it ? Briesler entered into a contract with a man to 
supply him with wood ; a small part, a few cords only, 
has be been able to get. Most of that was expended 
to dry the walls of the house before we came in, and 
yesterday the man told him it was impossible for him 



76 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

to procure it to be cut and carted . He lias had re- 
course to coals : but we cannot get grates made and 
set. We have indeed come into a new country. 

"You must keep all this to yourself, and when asked 
how I like it, say that I write you the situation is beau- 
tiful, which is true. The house is made habitable, but 
there is not a single apartment finished, and all within- 
side, except the plasteiing, has been done since Bries- 
ler came. We have not the least fence, yard, or other 
convenience, without, and the great unfinished au- 
dience-room I make a drying-room of, to hang up the 
clothes in. The principal stairs are not up, and will 
not be this winter. Six chambers are made comfort- 
able; two are occupied by the President and Mr. 
Shaw; two lower rooms, one for a common parlor and 
one for a levee room. Up-stairs there is the oval room, 
which is designed for the drawing-room, and has the 
crimson furniture in it. It is a very handsome room 
now, but when completed will be beautiful. If the 
twelve years, in which this place has been considered 
as the future seat of government, had l)een improved, 
as they would have been if in New England, very 
many of the present inconveniences would have been 
removed. It is a beautiful spot, capable of every im- 
provement, and the more I view it, the more I am 
deliiihted with it. Since I sat down to write, I have 
been called down to a servant from Mount Vernon, 
with a billet from Major Custis, and a haunch of veni- 
son, and a kind, congratulatory letter from Mrs. Lewis, 
upon my arrival in the city, with Mrs. Washington's 
love, inviting me to Mount Vernon, where, health per- 



AN UNFINISHED HOME. 77 

mitting, I will go, before I leave this place. * * * 
Two articles are much distressed for: the one is bells, 
but the more important one is wood. Yet you cannot 
see wood for trees. No arrangement has ])een made, 
but by promises never performed, to supply the new- 
comers with fuel. Of the promises, Briesler had re- 
ceived his full share. He had procured nine cords of 
wood : between six and seven of that was kindly burnt 
up to dry the walls of the house, which ought to have 
been done by the commissionei-s, but which, if left to 
them, would have remained undone to this day. Con- 
gress poured in, but shiver, shiver. No wood-cutters 
nor carters to be had at any rate. We are now in- 
debted to a Pennsylvania waggon to bring us, through 
the first clerk in the Treasury Office, one cord and a 
half of wood, which is all we have for this house, 
where twelve fires are constantly required, and where, 
we are told, the roads will soon be so bad that it can- 
not be drawm. Briesler procured two hundred bush- 
els of coal, or we must have suffered. This is the situ- 
ation of almost ever}^ person. The public officers have 
sent to Philadelphia for wood-cutters and waggons." 

" The vessel which has my clothes and other mat- 
ter is not arrived. The ladies are impatient for a 
drawing-room; I have no looking-glasses, but dwarfs, 
for this house ; nor a twentieth part lamps enough to 
light it. Many things were stolen, many were broken, 
by the removal; amongst the number, my tea-china is 
more than half missing-. Georgetown affords nothinfj. 
My rooms are very pleasant, and warm, whilst the 
dooi-s of the hall are closed. 



78 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

" You can scarce believe that here in this wilder- 
ness-city, I should find myself so occupied as it is. My 
visitors, some of them, come three and four miles. 
The return of one of them is the work of one day 
Most of the ladies reside in Georgetown, or in scattered 
parts of the city at two and three miles distance. 
We have all been very well as yet ; if we can by any 
means get wood, we shall not let our fires go out, but 
it is at a price indeed ; from four dollars it has risen 
to nine. Some say it will fall, but there must be more 
industry than is to be found here to bring half enough 
to the market for the consumption of the inhabitants." 

The Hon. John Cotton Smith, a member of Con- 
gress, from Connecticut, describing Washington as it 
appeared to him on his arrival there, wrote as fol- 
lows : 

" Our approach to the city was accompanied with 
sensations not easily described. One wing of the 
Capitol only had been erected, which, with the Presi- 
dent's House, a mile distant from it, both constructed 
with w^hite sandstone, were striking objects in dismal 
contrast with the scene around them. Instead of re- 
cognizing the avenues and streets portrayed on the 
plan of the city, not one was visible unless we except 
a road, with two buildings on each side of it; called the 
New Jersey Avenue. The Pennsylvania, leading as 
laid down on paper, from the Capitol to the Presi- 
dential mansion, was then nearly the whole distance a 
deep morass, covered with alder bushes, which were 
cut throu2:li the width of the intended Avenue the then 
ensuing winter. * * * * The roads in every di 



A WILDERNESS CITY, 79 

rection were muddy and unimproved; a side- walk was 
attempted in one instance by a covering formed of tlie 
chips of the stones which had been hewed for the Cap- 
itol. It extended but a little way, and was of little 
value, for in dry weather the sharp fragments cut our 
shoes, and in wet weather covered them v/ith white 
mortar ; in short, it was a new settlement. The houses, 
with two or three exceptions, had been very recently 
erected, and the operation greatly hurried in view of 
the approaching transfer of the national government. 
A laughable desire was manifested by what few citi- 
zens and residents there were, to render our condition 
as pleasant as circumstances would permit. Notwith- 
standing the unfavorable aspect which Washington 
presented on our arrival, I cannot sufficiently expi-ess 
my admiration of its local position. From the Capitol 
you have a distinct view of its fine, undulating surface, 
situated at the confluence of the Potomac and its 
Eastern Branch, the wide expanse of that majestic river 
to the bend at Mount Vernon, the cities of Alexandria 
and Georgetown, and the cultivated fields and blue 
hills of Maryland and Virginia on either side of the 
river, the whole constituting a prospect of surpassing 
beauty and grandeur. The city has also the inestima- 
ble advantage of delightful water, in many instances 
flowing from copious springs, and always attainable by 
digging to a moderate depth." 

" Some portions of the city are forty miles from 
Baltimore. The situation is indeed beautiful and 
pleasant. 

" The President's house was built to be looked at by 



80 ABIGAIL ADAjrS. 

visitors and strangers, and will render its occnpanta 
an object of ridicule witli some and of pity witli others, 
It must be cold and damp in winter, and cannot be 
kept in tolerable order without a regiment of servants. 
Tliere are but few houses at any one place, and most 
of them small, miserable* huts, which present an awful 
contrast to the public buildings. The people are poor, 
and as far as I can judge, they live like fishes, by eating 
each other." 

The first New- Year's reception at the White House 
was held by President Adams in 1801. The house 
was only partially furnished, and Mrs. Adams used 
the oval room up stairs, now the library, as a drawing- 
room. The formal etiquette established by Mrs. Wash- 
ington at New York and Philadelphia was kept up in 
the wilderness-city by Mrs. Adams. 

At this time the health of Mrs. Adams, which had 
never been very firm, began decidedly to fail. Her 
residence at Philadelphia had not been favorable, as it 
had subjected her to the attack of an intermittent 
fever, from the efi:ects of which she was never after- 
wai'ds perfectly free. The desire to enjoy the bracing 
air of her native climate, as well as to keep together 
the private property of her husband, upon which she 
early foresaw that he would be obliged to rely for 
their support in their last years, prompted her to reside 
much of her time at Quincy. 

Thus closed Mrs. Adams' life in Washington, which 
she ha^ given in the preceding lettei'S ; and spring found 
her once more in her Massacliusetts home, recuperat- 
ing her failing health. She lived in Washington only 



A MERllY IIEAET. 81 

four months — and yet she is inseparably connected 
with it. She was mistress of the White House less 
than half a year, but she stamped it with her individu- 
ality, and none have lived there since who have not 
looked upon her as the model and guide. It is not 
assel'ting too much, to observe that the first occupant 
of that historic house stands without a rival, and re- 
ceives a mead of praise awarded to no other American 
woman. 

In the midst of public or private troubles, the 
buoyant spirit of Mrs. Adams never forsook her. " I 
am a mortal enemy," she wrote upon one occasion to 
her husband, " to anything but a cheerful countenance 
and a merry heart, which Solomon tells us does good 
like a medicine." "This spirit contributed greatly to lift 
up his heart, when surrounded by difficulties and dan- 
gers, exposed to open hostility, and secret detraction, 
and resisting a torrent of invective, such as it may 
well be doubted whether any other individual in pub- 
lic station in the United States has ever tried to stem. 
It was this spirit which soothed his wounded feelings 
when the country, which he had served in the full con- 
sciousness of the perfect honesty of his motives, threw 
him oft', and signified its preference for other statesmen. 
There are oftener, even in this life, more compensations 
for the severest of the troubles that afflict mankind, 
than we ai'e apt to think."" 

The sacrifices made by Mrs. Adams during the long 
era of war, pestilence, and famine, deserves and should 
receive from a nation's gratitude a monument as high 
and massive as hei' illustrious husband's. 



82 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

Let it be reared in the hearts of the women of 
America, who may proudly claim her as a model, and 
let her fame be transmitted to remotest posterity — the 
"Portia" of the rebellious provinces. 

Statues and monuments belong rather to a bygone 
thaH a present time, and are indicative of a less degree 
of culture than we of this century boast. The pages 
of history are the truest, safest sarcophagi of great- 
ness, and erababn in their records the lives of the 
master- workers. Not in marble or bronze be her 
memory perpetuated, for we need no such hiero- 
glyphics in" this country of free schools. Place her 
history in the libraries of America, and the children 
of freedom will live over her deeds. To the crum- 
bling monarchies of Europe on their way to ruin, it 
may be necessary to erect statues of past gi'eatness, 
that some shadow of their nothingness may remain as 
warnings ; but the men and women of revolutionary 
memory, are become a part and parcel of this govern- 
ment, whose very existence must be wiped from the 
face of the earth ere one jot or tittle of their fame is 
lost. 

In viewing the character of Mrs. Adams, as it 
looms up in the pages of the past, we can but regret 
that she occupied no more enlarged, sphere. The wo- 
man who could reply as she did to the question, (" Had 
you known that Mr. Adams would have remained so 
^ong abroad, would you have consented that he should 
have gone ? ") — could have filled any position in civil 
life. "If I had known," she replied, after a moment's 
hesitation, "that Mr. Adams could have effected what 



A SPAKTAN WIFE. 83 

he has done, I would not only have siiljiultted to the 
absence I have endured, painful as it has been, but T 
would not have opposed it, even though three more 
years should be added to the number. I feel a pleas- 
ure in being able to sacrifice my selfish passions to the ^ 
general good, and in imitating the example which has 
taught me to consider myself and family but as the 
small dust of the balance, when compared with the 
great comnmuity,'" 

With the marked characteristics which made her 
determined and resolute, she could have occupied any 
post of honor requiring a strong mind and clear per- 
ceptions of right ; cut off, as was her sex, from partici- 
pation in the struggle around her ; confined by custom 
to the lonely and wearisome monotony of her country 
home, she nevertheless stamped her character upon the 
hearts of her countrymen, and enrolled her name 
among its workers. Had she been called into any of 
the departments of State, or required to fill any place 
of trust, hers would have been an enviable name ; even 
as it is, she occupies the foreground of the Revolution- 
ary histoiy, and so powerful were the energies of her 
soul, that biographers and historians have deemed it 
worth their while to deny, in lengthy terms, her in- 
fluence over her husband, and exert every argument 
to prove that she in no way controlled his actions. 
The opinions of men differ on this point, and the stu- 
dents of American biographies decide Ihe questions 
from their own stand-points. Yet who will not ven- 
ture to assert, that with the culture bestowed upon 
her which many men received, she would have towered 



84 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

liigli above tliera in their pride and selfislmess ! 
Controlled by the usages of society, she could only 
live in her imagination, and impress upon herchiklren 
the great ideas that wei'e doomed to fritter away use- 
lessly in her brain. ludiiferent to the charms of fash- 
ionable life, deprived of the luxuries which too often 
enervate and render worthless the capacities of wo- 
man, she was as independent and self-supporting in her 
actions, as were the inspirations of her mind ; and 
through good and evil report, conduced by her exam- 
ple to place that reliance in her country's success which 
in a great measure secured its independence. Her 
character was one of undeviating fjxirness and frank 
truthfulness, free from affectation and vanity. 

From the year 1801 down to the day of her death, 
a period of seventeen years, she lived uninterruptedly 
at Quincy. The old age of Mrs. Adams was not one 
of grief and I'epining, of clouds and darkness ; her 
clieerfulness continued with the full possession of her 
faculties to the last, and her sunny spirit enlivened the 
small social circle around her, brightened the solitary 
hours of her husband, and spread the influence of its 
example over the town where she lived. " Yesterday," 
she writes, to a grand-daughter, on the 26th of Octo- 
bei', 1814, "completes half a century since I entered 
the marriage state, then just your age. I have great 
cause of thankfulness that I have lived so long and 
enjoyed so large a portion of happiness as has been 
my lot. The greatest source of unhappijiess I have 
known, in that period, has arisen from the long and 
cruel separations which 1 was called, in a time of 



A MOTHERS PRIDE. 85 

war, and with a young family around me, to sub* 
mit to/' 

The appointment of lier eldest son as Minister to 
Great Britain, by President Madison, was a life-long 
satisfaction to her; and the testimony President Mon- 
roe gave her of his worth, by making him his Secre- 
tary of State, was the crowning mercy of her life. 
Had she been spared a few years longer, she would 
have enjoyed seeing him hold the position his father 
had occupied before him. Mrs. ^Vdams lost three of 
her children : a daughter in infancy ; a son grown to 
manhood, who died in 1800; and in 1813 her only re- 
maining daughter, Abigail, the wife of Colonel William 
S. Smith. 

The warmest feelings of friendship had existed be- 
tween Mr. Jefferson and herself until a difference in 
political sentiments, developed during the administra- 
tion of President Washington, disturbed the social re- 
lations existing. " Both Mr. Adams and Mr. Jefferson 
tried as hard as men could do, to resist the natural 
effect upon them of their antagonist positions. They 
strove each in turn, to stem the proscriptive fury of the 
parties to which they belonged, and that with equally 
bad success." 

" Mrs. Adams felt as women only feel, what she 
regarded as the ungenerous conduct of Mi*. Jefferson to- 
wards her husband during the latter j^art of his public 
life, and when she retired fromWashington,notwithstand- 
ing the kindest professions from his mouth were yet ring- 
ing in her ears, all communication between the parties 
ceased. Still, there remained on both sides, pleasant rem- 



80 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

iulscences to soften tlie irritation that liad taken place, 
and to open a way for reconciliation whenever circ-uin- 
stances should present a suitable opportunity." Tlie 
little daughter of Mr. Jeti'erson, in whom Mrs. xVdams 
had taken so much interest.in 1787, had in the interval 
trrown into a ^voman, and had been married to Mr. 
Eppes of Virginia. In 1804 she ceased to be numbered 
among the living, and ahnost against her own judg* 
meat Mrs. Adams wrote to him. He seemed to be 
much affected by this testimony of her s\Tnpatliy, and 
replied, not continiug himself to the subject matter of 
her letter, and added a request to kuow her reasons for 
the estraugement that had occurred. Without the 
knowledge of her husband she replied to hini, but he 
at first did not choose to believe her assertion. " For- 
tunately, the original endorsemeut, made in the hand- 
writing of letters retained by herself, will serve to put 
this matter beyond question." Her last letter to him 
we give entire : 

" QnxcT, 25th October, 1804. 

" Sir : Sickness for three weeks past has prevented 
my acknowledging the receipt of your letter of Sept. 
11th. When I first addressed you, I little thought of 
entering into a correspondence with you upon subjects 
of a political nature. I will not regret it, as it has led 
io some elucidations, and brought on some explanations, 
which place in a more favorable light occurrences 
which had wounded me. 

Having once entertained for you a respect and 
esteem, founded upon the character of an afiectionate 



LETTER TO MU. JEFFERSON". 87 

parent, a kind master, a candid and benevolent fi-iend, 
I could not suffer different political opinions to obliter- 
ate tiieni from my mind. I felt the truth of the ob- 
servation, that the heart is long, very long in receiving 
the conviction that is foi'ced upon it by reason. It 
was not until circumstances occurred to place you in 
the light of a re warder and encourager of a libeler, 
whom you could not but detest and despise, that I 
withdrew the esteem. I had long entertained for you. 
Nor can you wonder, Sii, that I shonld consider as a 
personal unkindness, the instance I have mentioned. 
I am pleased to find that which respected my son al- 
together unfounded. He was, as you conjecture, ap- 
pointed a commissioner of bankruptcy, together with 
Judge Dawes, and continued to serve in it with perfect 
satisfaction to all parties (at least I never heard the 
contrary), until superseded by the appointment of oth- 
ers. The idea suggested that no one was in office, and 
consequently no removal could take place, I cannot 
consider in any other light than what the gentlemen 
of the law would term a quibble — as such I pass it. 
Judge Dawes was continued or re-appointed, which 
placed Mr, Adams in a more conspicuous light as the 
object of personal resentment. Nor could I, upon this 
occasion, refrain calling to mind the last visit you made 
me at Washington, when in the course of conversation 
you assured me, tliat if it should lay in your power at 
any time to serve me or my famil,^, nothing would give 
you more pleasure. With respect to the ofiice, it was 
a small object, but the disposition of the remover was 
considered bv me as the barbed arrow. This, how 



88 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

ever, by your declaration, is withdrawn froni ray mind. 
With the public it will remain. And here, Sii', may I 
be allowed to pause, and ask whether, in your ardent 
desire to rectify the mistakes and abuses, as you may 
term them, of the former administrations, you may not 
be led into measures still more fatal to the Constitu- 
tion, and more derogatory to your honor and inde- 
pendence of character ? I know, from the observa- 
tions which I have made, that there is not a more diffi- 
cult part devolves upon a chief magistrate, nor one 
which subjects him to more reproach and censure, than 
the appointments to office. And all the patronage 
which this enviable power gives him is but a poor 
compensation for the responsibility to which it subjects 
him. It would be well, however, to weigh and con- 
sider characters, as it respects their moral worth and 
integrity. He who is not true to himself, nor just to 
others, seeks an office for the benefit of himself, un- 
mindful of that of his country. I cannot accord with 
you in opinion that the Constitution ever meant to 
withhold from the National Government the power of 
self defence ; or that it could be considered an in- 
fringement of the liberty of the press, to punish the 
licentiousness of it. Time must determine, and pos- 
terity will judge with more candor and impartiality, I 
hope, than the conflicting parties of our day, what 
measures have best promoted the happiness of the 
people ; and what raised them from a state of depres- 
sion and degradation to wealth, honor and reputation ; 
what has made them affluent at home and respected 
ttbroad ; and to whomsoever the tribute is due, to 



JEFFERSOlSr AND ADAMS. 89 

them may it be given. I will not further intrude upon 
your time ; but close this correspondence by my vvishejf 
that you may be directed to that path which may ter- 
minate in the prosperity and happiness of the people 
over whom you are placed, by administering the gov- 
ernment with justice and impartiality ; and be assured, 
Sir, no one will more rejoice in your success than 

Abigail Adams. 

memorandum 
subjoined to the copy of this letter, in the hand- 
writing of Mr. Adams. 

Qdinct, 19th November, 1804. 

The whole of this correspondence was begun and 
conducted without my knowledge or suspicion. Last 
evening and this morning, at the desire of Mrs. Adams 
I read the whole. I have no remarks to make upon it, 
at this time and in this place. 

J. Adams. 

" A new and strong tie was beginning indeed to bind 
the stately old men together. They were speedily be- 
coming the last of the signers of the Declaration of 
Independence — the last of the great actors and leaders 
of 1776. Their common and dearly-loved friend 
Kush had died in April, 1813, after a brief illness." 
Mr. Jefferson wrote to Mr. Adams of this occurrence, 
and said : " Another of our friends of seventy-six is 
gone, my dear sir, another of the co-signers of the in- 
dependence of our country. I believe we are under 
half a dozen at present ; I mean the signers of the 



90 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

Declaration. Yourself, Gerry, Carroll and myself, ar« 
all I know to be living." 

Appended to a letter from Adams to Jefferson, 
dated July 15tli, 1813, we find the following: 

" I have been looking for some time for a space in 
my good husband's letters to add the regards of an old 
friend, which are still cherished and jDreserved through 
all the changes and vicissitudes which have taken place 
since we first became acquainted, and will, I trust, re- 
main as long as 

"A. Adams." 

" Mrs. Adams, like her husband, never again met 
Mr, Jefferson, but she had the opportunity, and eagerly 
availed herself of it, to bestow kindly and assiduous 
attentions on some of his family." 

"She lost none of the imposing features of her 
character in the decline of life. An observing and 
intelligent gentleman who was a guest at Quincy 
within a year or two of her death, has given us a de- 
scription of his visit. Mr. Adams shook as if palsied ; 
but the mind and the heart were evidently sound. 
His spirits seemed as elastic as a boy's. He joked, 
laughed heartily, and talked about everybody and ev- 
erything, past and present, with the most complete 
abandon. He seemed to our highly educated inform- 
ant to be a vast encyclopedia of written and unwritten 
knowledge. It gushed out on every possible topic, 
but was mingled with lively anecdotes and sallies, and 
he exhibited a carelessness in his language which sug- 
gested anything but pedantry or an attempt at ' fine 



MRS. ADAMS DIED OCTOBER 2S, 1818. 91 

talking.' In short, tlie brave old man was as delight- 
ful as he was commandins; in conversation. While the 
guest was deeply enjoying this interview, an aged and 
stately female entered the apartment, and he was 
introduced to Mrs. Adams. A cap of exquisite lace 
surrounded features still exhibiting intellect and ener- 
gy, though they did not wear the appearance of ever 
having been beautiful. Her dress was snowy white, 
and there was that immaculate neatness in her appear- 
ance which gives to age almost the sweetness of youth. 
With less warmth of manner and sociableness than 
Mr. Adams, she was sufficiently gracious, and her oc- 
casional remarks betrayed intellectual vigor and strong 
sense. The guest went away, feeling that he never 
again should behold such living specimens of the 
" great of old." 

Mrs. Adams died of an attack of fever, the 28th 
of October, 1818, at the advanced age of seventy- 
four years. " To learning," says her grandson, " in 
the ordinary sense of that term, Mrs. Adams could 
make no claim. Her reading had been extensive in 
the lighter departments of literature, and she was 
well acquainted with the poets in her own language, 
but it went no further. It is the soul, shining through 
the words, that gives them their great attraction ; the 
spirit ever equal to the occasion, whether a great or a 
small one ; a spirit,' inquisitive and earnest in the 
little details of life, as when she was in France and 
England ; playful, when she describes daily duties, 
but risinsf to the call when the roar of cannon is in 
her ears— or when she I'eproves her husband for not 



02 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

knowing her better than to think her a coward and to 
fear telling her bad news." 

" The obsequies of Mi's. Adams were attended by a 
great concourse of people who voluntarily came to pay 
this last tribute to her memory. Several brief but 
beautiful notices of her appeared in the newspapers 
of the day, and a sermon was preached by the late 
Rev. Dr. Kirkland, then President of Harvard Uni 
versity, which closed with a delicate and affecting 
testimony to her worth. ' Ye will seek to mourn, be- 
reaved friends,' it says, 'as becomes Christians, in a 
manner worthy of the person you lament. You do 
then bless the Giver of Life that the course of your 
endeared and honored friend was so long and so 
bright ; that she endeared so fully into the spirit of those 
injunctions which we have exjjlained, and was a min- 
ister of blessings to all within her influence. You are 
soothed to reflect that she was sensil^le of the many 
tokens of divine goodness which marked her lot; that 
she received the good of her existence with a cheerful 
and grateful heart; that, when called to w^eep, she 
bore adversity with an equal mind ; that she used the 
world as not abusing it to excess, improving well her 
time, talents, and opportunities, and though desired 
longer in this world, was fitted for a better happiness 
than this world can give.' " 

Soon as the news of Mrs. Adams' death reached 
Monticello, Mr. Jefferson wrote as follows : — 



TRIBUTE FKOM JEFFERSON". 93 



To John Adams. 

" MoNTioELLo, November 13th, 1818. 

" The public papers, my dear friend, announce the 
fatal event of which your letter of October the 20th 
had given me ominous foreboding. Tried myself in 
the school of affliction, by the loss of every form of 
connection which can rive the human heart, I know 
well, and feel what you have lost, what you have suf- 
fered, are suffering, and have yet to endure. The same 
trials have taught me that for ills so immeasurable, time 
and silence are the only medicine. I will not, there- 
fore, by useless condolences, open afresh the sluices of 
your grief, nor, although mingling sincerely my tears 
with yours, will I say a word more where words are 
vain, but that it is of some comfort to us both that the 
time is not very distant at which we are to deposit in 
the same casement our sorrows and suffering Ijodies, 
and to ascend in essence to an ecstatic meeting with 
the friends we have loved and lost, and whom we shall 
still love and never lose again. God bless you, and 
support you under your heavy affliction. 

" Th. Jefferson.'" 

Side by side in the Congregational church in Quin- 
cy, to which he had given the donation to erect it with, 
lie the mortal remains of Mr. and Mrs. Adams. 
Within the same house, a plain, white marble slab, on 
the right hand of the pulpit, surmounted by his bust, 
bears the following inscription written by his eldest 
>ou : — 



04 ABIGAIL ADAMS. 

Libertatem, Amicitiam. Fidera Retinebis. 

D. O. M. 

Beneath these walls, 

Are deposited the mortal remains of 

JOHN ADAMS, 

Son of John and Susanna (Boylston) Adams, 

Second President of the United States, 

Born }/s October, 1735. 

On the fourth of July, 1776, 

He pledged his life, fortune, and sacred honour, 

To the Independence of his country. 

On the third of September, 1783, 

He affixed his seal to the definitive treaty with Great Britain, 

Which acknowledged that independence, 

And consummated the redemption of his pledge. 

On the fourth of July, 1826, 

He was summoned 

To the Independence of Immortality 

And to the judgTuent of his God. 

This house will bear witness to his piety; 

This Town, his birth-place, to his munificence; 

History to his patriotism; 

Posterity to the depth and compass of his mind. 

At his side. 

Sleeps, till the trump shall sound, 

ABIGAIL 

His beloved and only wife, 

Daughter of William and Elizabetli, (Quincy) Smith. 

In every relation of life a pattern 

of filial, conjugal, maternal, and social virtue. 

Born November ,}i, 1744 

Deceased 28 October, 1818, 

Aged 74. 

Married 25 October, 1764. 

During an union of more than half a century 

They survived, in harmony of sentiment, principle and aflPection, 

Tiie tempests of civil commotion. 

Meeting undaunted and surmounting 

The terrors and trials of tliat revolution, 



THE TABLET. 95 

Which secured the freedom of their country ; 
Improved the condition of their times; 
And brightened tlie prospects of futurity 
To the race of man upon earth. 
Pilgrim I 
• From lives thu3 spent tliy eartlily duties learn : 
From fancy's dreams to active virtue turn : 
Let freedom, friendship, failh, thy sou] engage, 
And serve, like them, thy country and thy age. 



III. • . 

MARTHA JEFFEllSON. 

Mrs. Jefferson liad been dead nineteen years wlien, 
in 1801, President Jefferson took possession of the 
Wliito House, and tiiore was strictly s})eal<ino; no lady 
of tlie mansion dui'ino; liis term. His daiii»hters were 
witli him in Wasbin^-ton only twice diirino; bis eiccbt 
years' stay, and be beld no formal receptions as ai"e 
customary no\v ; and being of tbe Frencb scbool of 
democratic politics, professed a dislike of all cere- 
monious visitors. 

On tbe 1st day of January, 1Y72, Mr. Jefferson 
was married to Mrs. Martba Skelton, Avidow of 
Batburst Skelton, and daughter of Jobii AYayles, of 
" tbe Forest," in Cbarles City County. 

Mr. Lossing, in bis yery interesting book of tbe 
Revolution, gives a fac-simile of Mr. Jefferson's mar- 
riage license bond, drawn up in bis own handwriting, 
which the former found in a bundle of old papers in 
Charles City Court House while searcbiiig for records 
of Revolution events. " Mrs. Skelton was remarkable 
for her beauty, her accomplishments, and her solid 
merit. In person she was a little above medium 
height, slightly but exquisitely formed. Her com- 
plexion was brilliant — her large expressive eyes of the 
richest tinge of auburn. She walked, rode, and danced 
with admirable grace and spirits — sang and played the 
spinet and harpsichord [tbe musical instruuients of 



THE ElVAL LOVERS. 97 

the Virginia ladies of that day] with uiicomnion skill 
The more solid parts of her education liad not been 
neo-lected." She was also well read and intellio;ent, 
conversed agreeably, possessed excellent sense and a 
lively play of fancy, and had a frank, warm-hearted 
and somewhat impulsive disposition. She was twenty- 
tln-ee years of age at the time of her second marriage, 
and had been a widow four years. Her only child she 
lost in infancy. 

Tradition, says Randall, has preserved one anecdote 
of the wooers who sought her hand. It has two render- 
ings, and the reader may choose between them. Tlie 
first is that two of Mr. Jefferson's rivals haj)pened to meet 
on Mrs. Skelton's doorstone. They were shown into a 
room from wliicli they heard her harpsichord and voice, 
accompanied by Mr. Jefferson's violin and voice, in the 
passages of a touching song. They listened for a stanza 
or two. Whether something in the words, or in the tones 
of the singers appeared suggestive to them, tradition 
does not say, but it does aver that they took their hats 
and retired to return no more on the same errand ! The 
other, and, we think, less probable version of the story 
is, that the three met on the door-stone, and agreed 
that they would " take turns " and that the inter- 
views should be made decisive ; and that by lot or 
otherwise Mr. Jefferson led off, and that then dur-inor 
his trial they heard the music that they concluded 
settled the point. After the Bridal festivities at the 
Forest, Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson set out for Monticello, 
and they were destined to meet some not exactly 
amusing adventures by the way. A manusciipt of 



98 MARTHA JEFFERSON. 

their eldest claiigliter [Mrs. Randolpli] furuislied Mr 
Kiind.'xll by one of her grand daughters and piiblislied 
in his "Life of Jefferson " — says : " They left the forest 
after a tall of snow, light then, but increasing in depth 
as they advanced up the country. They were finally 
obliged to quit the carriage and proceed on liorse- 
back. Having stopped for a short time at Blenheim 
(the residence of Colonel Carter) where an overseer 
only resided, they left it at sunset to pursue their way 
throuo-h a mountain track rather than a road, in 
which the snow lay from eighteen inches to two feet 
deep, having eight miles to go before reaching Mon- 
ti cello. 

" They arrived late at night, the fires all out and 
the servants retired to their own houses for the night. 
The horrible dreariness of such a house, at the end of 
such a journey, I have often heard tliem both relate." 
Part of a ])ottle of wine, found on a shelf behind 
some l)ooks, had to serve the new-Miai-ried couple both 
for fire and supper. Tempers too sunny to l)e ruffled 
by many ten times as serious annoyances in after life, 
now found but sources of diversion in these ludicrous 
contretcQnps, and the horrible dreai'iness was lit up 
with songs, and merriment and laughter." 

Nine years afterward, Mrs. Jetfers(Mi, the mother 
of five children, was slowly decUning, and her husband, 
refusing a mission to Europe on that account, deter- 
mined to give up all other duties to soothe and sustain 
her. She had born her fifth child in November, and 
wlieu it was two months old, she had fled with it in 
lier arms as Arnold approached Richmond. " The 



ESCAPE FKOM THE B311T1SII. 99 

Bj'itisli General Tarleton sent troops to capture Gov 
ernor Jefferson, who was occupied in securing his mosi 
important papers. While thus engaged, liis wife and 
children were sent in a carriage, under the care of a 
young gentleman who was studying with him, to Colo- 
nel Coles, fourteen miles distant. Monticello was cap- 
tured (if a residence occupied by unresisting servants 
may be said to be captured), and the house searched, 
though not sacked by the enemy. Many of the ne- 
groes were taken, and but five ever returned, while 
many of those left behind sank under the epidemics 
raging at the time. The house was robbed of nothing 
save a few articles in the cellar, the farm was stripped 
of valuable horses, and many thousand dollars' worth 
of grain and tobacco. 

"Two faithful slaves, Martin and Caesar, were left 
in the house and were engaged in secreting plate and 
other valuables under the floor of the front portico, 
when McLeod's party arrived. The floor was then of 
planks. One of these was raised, and Martin stood 
above handing down articles to Caesar in the cavity. 
As about the last piece went in, Martin either heard 
the clang of hoofs, or caught a glimpse of the white 
coats through the trees, and down went the plank 
sliutting Caesar into the dark hole below. And here 
he remained eighteen hours without light or food. He 
was a powerful, determined fellow, six years younger 
than his master, and having been brought up with 
him, was sufficiently attached to him to have endured 
fist and darkness for another eighteen hours, rather 
than make apparent the cause of his concealment." 



100 MAETIIA JEFFERSON. 

In April, the loss of her infant, together with constant 
anxiety for the safety of her husband, shattered the 
remainino: streno'th of Mrs. Jefferson. Toward the 
close of 1781, she rallied. Her last child was bom 
the 8th of May, 1782. Greater apprehensions than 
usual had preceded the event and they were fatally 
verified. The delicite constitution was irrevocably 
sapped. " A momentary hope for her might sometimes 
flutter in the bosom of her lonely husband, but it was 
in reality a hope against hope, and he knew it to be 
so. That association which had been the first joy of 
his life, which blent itself with all his future visions 
of happiness, wdiich was to be the crowning glory of 
that delisrhtful retreat he was forming^, and which was 
to shed mellow radiance over the retirement to which 
he was fondly looking forward, was now to end ; and 
it was only a question of weeks, or, possibly, months, 
how soon it would end. Mrs. Jetferson had returned 
her husband's affection, with not only the fervor of a 
woman whose dream of love and pride (for what wo- 
man is not proud of the world's estimation of her hus- 
band ?) had been more than gratified, but with the 
idolatrous gratitude of a wife who knew how often 
that husband had cast away the most tempting honors 
without a siirh, when her own feeble health had solic- 
ited his presence and attentions. And now, as the 
dreadful hour of parting approached, her affection be- 
came painfully, almost wildly absorbing. The faith- 
ful dauirhter of the church had no dread of the here- 
after, but she yearned to remain with her husband 
with that yearning which seems to have power to re- 



A iiusbai^d's devotion. 101 

tard even the approaches of death. Her eyes ever 
rested on him, ever followed him. When he spoke, 
no other sound could reach her ear or attract her at- 
tention. When she waked from slumber, she looked 
momentarily alaruied and distressed, and ever ap- 
peared to be frightened, if the customary form was not 
bending over her, the customary look upon her. For 
weeks Mr. Jefferson sat at that bedside, only catching 
brief intervals of rest." She died on the Gth of Sep- 
tember. Her eldest daughter, Mrs. Randolph, thus, 
many years afterward, recorded her recollections of the 
sad scene : " He nursed my poor mother in turn with 
Aunt Carr and her own sistei*, sitting up with her 
and administering her medicines and drink to the 
last. For four months that she lingered, he was 
never out of calling; when not at her bedside he was 
writing in a small room which opened immediately 
into hers." 

To her ^vere denied the honors that later in life 
crowned the brow of her gifted husband. Had she 
survived, no more pleasant life could have been traced 
than this gentle, cultivated woman's. Hers was no 
passive nature, swayed by every passing breeze, but a 
loving, strong heart, a rare and gifted intellect, culti- 
vated by solid educational advantages, experience, and 
the society of the greatest statesman and scholar of 
his day. In the midst of all happiness, vouchsafed to 
humanity, she died ; and with sincere respect and ad- 
miration for the talents she possessed, and the strength 
of character she discovered, we honor her sex by por- 
traying her life. 



102 MARTHA JEFFERSON. 

Martlia Jefterson, after the death of her mother 
was placod at scliool in Philadelphia at the age of 
eleven years, where she remained until her father tools 
her, ill 178-4, to Europe. "His other two daughters, 
being too young for such a journey, were left with 
their maternal aunt, Mrs. Eppes, wife of Francis Eppes, 
E-^quire, of Eppington, Chesterfield County, Virginia^ 
Mary, the second of his surviving children, was six 
years old, and Lucy Elizabeth, the third, was two 
years old. The latter died before the close of 1Y84. 
The child of sorrow and misfortune, her organization 
was too frail and too intensely susceptible to last long. 
Iler sensibilities were so precociously acute, that she 
listened with exquisite pleasure to music, and wept on 
hearing a false note. 

After a short period of sight-seeing, Martha Jeffer- 
son was placed at a convent, and continued to reside there 
during her lather's stay in Europe. In July, 1787, 
" the long-expected Mary (called Marie in France, and 
thenceforth through life, Marie) readied London." 
She had crossed the Atlantic with simply a servant 
girl, though doubtless they were both intrusted to the 
charge of some passenger friend, or some known and 
trusted ship commander, Avhom we do not find named. 
They were received by Mrs. Adams, and awaited an 
expected opportunity of crossing the Channel with a 
party of French friends of Mr. Jeifersou. These con- 
tinued to defer their return, and Mr. Jeflerson became 
too impatient to await their movements. Accordiiigl}", 
his steward, the favorite and trusty Petit, was sent to 
Loudon after Marie, and she reached her father s hotel 



THE DAUGHTERS. 103 

in Paris on tlie 20tli of July, jnst three dnys before 
her nintli birthday. 

Mrs. Adcuns thus describes her little guest, imme 
diately after her departni-e, in a letter to her sister, 
Mrs. Craiich, of Massachnsetts : 

"I have had with me for a fortnii^ht a little dani2:h 
ter of Mr. Jetfersou's, who arrived here with a young 
negro girl, her servant, ft'oni Virginia. Mr. Jefferson 
wrote nie some months ago that lie expected them, and 
desired me to receive them. I did so, and was amply 
rewarded for my trouble. A finer child of her age I 
never saw. So mature an understanding, so womanly 
a behavior, and so much sensibility, united, are rarely 
to be met with. I grew so fond of her, and she was 
so attached to me, that when Mi'. Jeflterson sent for 
her, they were oblii>'ed to force the little creature awav. 
She is but eight years old. She wonld sit, sometimes, 
and describe to me the parting Avitli her aunt, w^ho 
brought her up, * the obligations she was under to her, 
and the love she had for her little cousins, till the 
tears would stream down her cheeks ; and how I had 
been her friend, and she loved me. Iler papa would 
break her heart by making her go again. She clung 
lound me so that I could not help sheildiug a tear at 
parting with her. She was the favorite of every one 
iu the house. I regret that such fine spirits must be 
spent in the walls of a convent. She is a beautiful 
girl, too." t 

Marie, (for so we shall henceforth call her, unless 

* ^Nfrs. Francis Eppes, of Eppington, Va. 
t Mrs. Adams' Letters, vol. ii., p. 179. 



104 MAJITIIA JEFFEliSON. 

when adopting her father's sobriquet of Polly) was 
soon placed with Martha in the school of the Al> 
baye de Pauthemont. Martha had now grown into 
a tall, graceful girl, with that calm, sweet fiice 
stamped with thought and earnestness, which, with 
the traces of many more years on it, and the no])le 
dignity of the matron superadded, beams down from 
the speaking canvass of Sully. The most dutiful of 
daughters, the most attentive of learners, possessing 
a solid underst:inding, a judgnKMit ripe beyond her 
years, a most gentle and genial temper, and an unas- 
suming modesty of demeanor which neither the dis- 
tinction of her position, nor the flatteries that after- 
ward surrounded hei-, ever wore off in the least degree, 
she was the idol of her father and family, and the de- 
YiQ-ht of all who knew her. 

The little Marie has been sufficiently described by 
Mrs. Adams. "Slighter in person than her sister, she 
already gave indications of a superior beauty. It was 
that exquisite beauty possessed by her mother — that 
beauty which the experienced learn to look upon with 
dread, because it betrays a physical organization too 
delicately fine to withstand the rough shocks of the 

WOl'ld.^' 

"In April, an incident of an intere^^ting character 
occurred in Mr. Jefferson's family. His oldest daugh- 
ter, as has been- seen, had been educated in the views 
and feelino's of the Church of En^-land. Her mother 
had zealously moulded her young mind in that direc- 
tion. Her f^tther had done nothing certainly, by word 
or act to divert it from that channel ; and it had flowed 



SCHOOL LIFE ENDED. 105 

OD, for auglit Martha knew or suspected to tlie con- 
trary, with his full approbation. If she had then been 
called upon to state what were her fathej-'s religious 
beliefs, she would have declared that her impressions 
were that he leaned to the tenets of the church to 
which his family belonged. The daring and flippant 
infidelity now rife in French society, disgusted the 
earnest, serious, naturally reverential girl. The calm 
seclusion of Panthemont, its examples of serene and 
holy life, its intellectual associations, wooed - her away 
from the turmoil and glare and wickedness and erup- 
tions without. After meditating on the subject for a 
time, she wrote to her father for his permission to re- 
main in a convent, and to dedicate herself to the duties 
of a religious life. 

For a day or two she received no answer. Then 
his carriage rolled up to the door of the Abbaye, and 
poor Martha met her father in a fever of doubts and 
fears. Never was his smile more benignant and gen- 
tle. He had a private interview with the Abbess. 
He then told his daughters he had come for them. 
They stepped into his carriage, it rolled away, and 
Martha's school life was ended.* Henceforth she was 
introduced into society, and presided, so fiir as was ap- 
propriate to her age, as the mistress of her fxther's 
household. * * * Neither he nor Martha ever, 
after her first letter on the subject, made the remotest 
allusion to each other to her request to enter a con- 
vent. She spoke of it freely in after years, to her 

• This happened April 22d, 1789 



106 MARTHA JEFFEKSON RANDOLPH. 

children, and always expressed her full approbation of 
her father's conrse on the occasion. She always spoke 
of her early wish as rather the dictate of a transient sen 
timent, than a fixed conviction of religions duty ; and 
slie warmly applauded the quick and gentle way which 
her father took to lead her back to her family, her 
friends, and her country. Mr. Jefferson left the shores 
of Europe with his two daughters the 28th of October, 
1^89, and the following February Martha was married 
to 1'homas Mann Randolph, jr., who had been a ward 
of her father's. " The young people were cousins, and 
had been attached to each other from childhood. He 
was tall, lean, with dark, expressive features and a 
flashing eye, commanding in carriage, elastic as steel, 
and had that sudden sinewy strength which it would 
not be difficult to fancy he inherited from the forest 
monarchs of Virginia." 

Mr. Jefferson was immediately tendered, and ac- 
cepted a position in President Washington's cab- 
inet and mnde his home in New York and after- 
ward in Philadelphia until his withdrawal from pub- 
lic life. 

After President Washington declined a re-appoint- 
ment, Mr. Adams was elected to fill his place, and Mr. 
Jefferson the second position in the gift of the nation. 
Tn 1801, he was inaugurated President of the United 
States. His dauo-hter IMartha was livins: at her hus- 
band's country home near Monticello, the mother of 
several children, and Marie, who had previously mar- 
ried Mr. Eppes of Eppington, was happily situated at 



GAMING FASHION-ABLE. 107 

Moiiticello awaiting lier father's promised visit in early 
summer.* 

Sir Ausru^tus Poster, wlio was Secretary of Leora- 
tioD at Washington to the British Minister, Mr. Merry, 
has G^iven some rather entertainins^ accounts of the 
state of society there in the time of Jefferson. "In 
going to assemblies, one had to drive three or 
four miles within the city bounds, and very often at 
the risk of an overturn, or of being what is termed 
stalled, or stuck in the mud, when one can neither go 
backward nor forward, and either loses one's shoes or 
one's patience. Cards were a great resource of an 
evening, and gaming was all the fashion, for the men 
who frequented society were chiefly from Virginia or 
the Western States, and were very fond of brag, the 
most oramblino- of all srames. Loo was the innocent 

O O O 

diversion of the ladies, who when they were looed, 
pi'onounced the word in a very mincing manner. 

"The New Englanders, generally speaking, were 
very religious, but thougli there were many excep- 
tions, I cannot say so much for the Maiylanders, and 
still less for the Virginians. But in spite of its incon- 
veniences and desolate aspect, it was, I think, the most 
agreeable town to i-eside in for any length of time. 
The opportunity of collecting information from Sv^na- 
tors and Representatives from all parts of the country 
— the hospitality of the heads of the Government and 
the Corps Diplomatique of itself, supplied resources 
such as could nowhere else be looked for." 

* She died at Monticdlo, April 17, 1804. 



108 MAKTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH. 

Mr. Jefferson was inausrurated President a second 
time on the 4tli of Marcli, 1805, then in tlie sixty- 
second year of his age. The following winter, his 
only daughter, with all her children, passed most of 
the season in Washington. She never made but two 
visits there; one with her sister, the second year of his 
first term, and this last one in the winter of 1805-6, 
after her sister\s death. Means of travel were not so 
rapid or pleasant as now, and the laborious and ex- 
tremely tedious undertaking of travelling so far in a 
carriage was sufficient to dampen the desire of living 
for a few alternate months with, her father. The un- 
healthy condition of Washington at that time, its 
low and marsliy condition, engendering disease, ren- 
dered it absolutely necessary for those unacclimated to 
be out of its limits during the hot months of summer. 
The increasing cares of children and the duties of 
Virginia matrons, also deterred Mrs. Randolph from 
becoming, as we must only regret she did not, perma- 
nently located in the President's House. 

Her memory is so fragrant with the perfume of 
purity and saintly sweetness, that it is a privilege to 
dwell and muse upon a theme so elevating. The 
world has not yet developed a more harmonious, re- 
fined, or superior type of womanhood than the daugh- 
ters of Virginia in the last century. Reared in ease 
and plenty, taught the virtues that ennoble, and val- 
uing their good name no less than prizing their family 
lineage, they were the most delightful specimens of 
womanhood ever extant. Most particularly was Mar- 
tha Jefierson of this class, wliose image is fast losing 



"the sweetest woman of VIRGINIA." 109 

originality in the modern system of utilitarian educa- 
tion. Her father's and her husband's great enemy 
pronounced her "the sweetest woman in Yirginia;" 
and the assurance comes laden with the testimony 
of many tongues, that her existence was one of genial 
sunshine and peace. Are not such natures doubly 
blessed, first, in the happiness they secure to them- 
selves, and, secondly, in the blessing they are to those 
who walk in the light of their example ? With the 
retirement of Mr. Jefferson from public life, came a 
new trouble in the shape of innumerable visitors, and 
the seventeen years he lived at Monticello was one 
continued scene of new faces and old friends. Even 
after the loss of property and accumulated debts, he 
was compelled to entertain thoughtless crowds who 
made pilgrimages to his shrine. Time and again he 
would go to an adjoining estate to secure that rest and 
quiet so essential to his health ; but these visits were 
never of long duration, for he could not consent to be 
separated from his daughter, even though accompanied 
by his grandchildren. As the shadows began to 
darken round his earth-life, and bankruptcy to hover 
over him, he turned with redoubled affection to this 
idol, and she was strong and faithful to the last. 
Mother and sister she had buried, and she was yet 
strong enough to see her husband and father taken. 

" There were few eminent men of our country, ex- 
cept, perhaps, some political adversaries, who did not 
visit Mr. Jefferson in his retirement, to say nothing of 
distinguished foreigners."" But all visitors were not as 
agreeable as " eminent men." " There are a number 



110 MAKTIIA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH. 

of persons now living wlio have seen groups of utter 
strangers, of both sexes^, planted in the passage be- 
tween his study and dining-room, consulting their 
watches, and waiting for liim to pass from one to the 
other to his dinner, so that they could momentarily 
stare at him. A female once punched through a win- 
dow-pane of the house, with her parasol, to get a bet- 
ter view of him. When sitting in the shade of his 
porticoes to enjoy the coolness of the approaching 
evening, parties of men and women would sometimes 
approach within a dozen yards, and gaze at him point- 
blank until they had looked their fill, as they would 
have gazed on a lion in a menagerie,"" 

Mrs. Randolph was " the apple of her father's eye."*' 
All his letters bear witness to his affection, and all his 
life records this prominent sentiment of his heart. A 
gentleman writing to him for his views on a proper 
course of education for woman, he takes the opportu- 
nity of complimenting her unconsciously. " A plan of 
female education," he says, "has never been a subject 
of systematic contemplation with me. It has occupied 
my attention so far only as the education of my own 
daughters occasionally required. Considering that 
they would be placed in a country situation where lit- 
tle aid could be obtained from abroad, I thought it es- 
sential to give them a solid education, which might 
enal)le them — when become mothers — to educate their 
own daughters, and even to direct the course for sons, 
should their fathers be lost, or incapable, or inatten- 
tive. 

" My surviving daughter accordingly, the mother 



JULY 4tit, 1826. Ill 

of many daughters as well as sons, lias made theii 
education the object of her life, and l)eing a better 
judge of the practical part than myself, it is with her 
aid and that of one of her eUve-s, that I shall sul)join a 
catalogue of the books for such a course of reading as 
we have practised." 

Again, in a letter to his grandson, Thomas Jeffer- 
son Randolph, he says : 

" You kindly encourage me to keep up my spirits ; 
but oppressed with disease, debility, age, and embar- 
rassed affairs, this is difficult. For myself, I should 
not regard a prostration of fortune ; but I am over- 
whelmed at the prospect of the situation in which I 
may leave my family. My dear and beloved daugh- 
ter, the cherished companion of my early life, and 
nurse of my age, and her children, rendered as dear to 
me as if my own, from having lived with me from 
their cradle, left in a comfortless situation, hold up to me 
nothing but future gloom ; and I should not care were 
life to end with the line I am writin,";, were it not 
that in the unhappy state of mind which your fiither's 
misfortunes have brought uj^on him, I may yet be of 
some avail to the family." 

Ex-President JeffervSon died the 4th of July, 1826, 
and at nearly the same hour passed away the spirit of 
John Adams. He lingered a little behind Jeffei'son, 
and his last words, uttered in the failing articulation 
of the dying, were : "Jefferson still survives." Mrs. 
Randolph left no written account of the scene. On 
the 2d of July, Mr. Jeflerson handed her a little cas- 
ket. On opening it, after his (K-aih, she found a paper 



ll'-3 MAKTIIA ,IKKKKKS()]\" KAN I)()L1>II. 

on which he luul wiittcii the linos of IMoorc, conimeuc- 
in^: : 

o 

" It is not tlio tour at this moinont slioil 

AVhoii tlio cold turf liua just boon laiuo'or him" 

There is ;ilso a touehin^'- tribnte to his daughter, 
deehiring that while he " och^s to his fathers," " the 
List pang of life," is in })arting from her ; that " two 
seraphs" "long shrouded in death " (meaning doubt- 
less his wife and younger daughter) " await him ; " 
that he will "bear them her love." 

After this, all is sadness. To satisfy creditors all 
the proi)ei'ty was sold, and tlu^ pi'oceeds did not fully 
meet the debts. 

" When it became known that IMonticello had 
gone, or must go out of the hands of Mr. Jeiferson\-i 
family, and that his only child was left without an 
independent ])rovisiou, another exhibition of }Md)lic 
fei'liug took place. The I egislatures of South Caro- 
lina and Louisiana promptly voted her S10,000 each, 
and the stocks they created t\)r the purpose sold for 
$•21,800. Other plans were started in other States, 
which, had they been carried out, would have em- 
braced a liberal provision for Mr. JetVerson's descend- 
ants. But, as is usual on such occasions, the people in 
each locality obtained exaggerated impressions of what 
was iloing in others, and slackinied their own exer- 
tions until the feeling that prompt(Ml them died away." 

On lhc> 10th of October, IS.'W;, in the sixty-tifth 
year of her age, Martha Jefferson Kandolpli died, and 
was laid besid her father in the graveyard at Mouti 
celK>. 




J2',$^^J'^.^^AV_.. 



IV. 



DOROTHY P. MADISOK 



Washington Ieving, in one of his letters, liaa 
given an amusing account of his troubles in Washing- 
ton, in preparing to attend a levee given by President 
Madison. After a ludicrous description of his vexa- 
tions, he says, he finally emerged into the blazing 
splendor of Mrs. Madison's drawing-room. Here he 
was most graciously received, and found a crowded 
collection of great and little men, of ngly and old 
women, and beautiful young ones. Mrs. Madison, he 
adds, was a fine, pretty, buxom dame, who had a smile 
and a pleasant word for every body. Her sisters, 
Mrs. Cutts and Mi's. Washington, were also present on 
this occasion, and looked " like the merry wives of 
Windsor." 

Dorothy Payne, the second child of John and 
Mary Coles Payne, was born the 20th of May, 1772. 
Her mother was a daughter of William Coles, Esq., 
of Coles Hill ; and was a lady of pleasing social 
^manners. The family were Virginians, and though 
Mrs. Madison was born in the State of North Caroli- 
na, she ever prided herself on a title so dear to all its 
possessors : that of being a daughter of the old com- 
monwealth. Her parents removed to Philadelphia 
when she was quite young, and joined the Society of 
Friends at that place. Here their little daughter was 



114 DOROTHY P. MADISOlSr. 

reared according to the strict system of the society, 
and by example and precept taught to ignore all those 
graceful accomplishments deemed so necessary in the 
formation of a woman's education. Attired in the 
close-fitting dress of her order, she would demurely 
attend to the duties imposed upon her, and the won- 
derful undertone of sweetness in h.er character kept; 
the brow serene, and the heart ever bright and hope- 
ful. Hers was a sunny elastic nature, even as a child ; 
and if she was not permitted to learn the worldly arts 
she desired, her disposition was not soured by these re- 
strictions, and the inner graces which afterward made 
her famous, blossomed and bloomed in native harmony. 
Nothins: could conceal her beautiful character. Nor 
could the quaint Ijonnet of the Friends liide her spark- 
ling eyes and perfectly rounded features from the ad- 
miring gaze of her young acquaintances. At the age 
of nineteen she was married to John Todd, a rising 
young lawyer of Philadelphia and a member of the 
Society of Friends. Her father had manumitted his 
slaves when he moved to the city, and Miss Payne was 
accustomed to a life of simj^licity and plentiful ness, but 
never to even comparative wealth. Nor was she re- 
markable for her literary abilities or acquired attain- 
ments ; but her warm heart beamed goodness from her 
expressive lips and lent a fascination to her frank, 
earnest face. After her union with Mr. Todd, her time 
was spent in her modest home according to the seclud- 
ed manner of her sect, and during her short married 
life she pursued the even tenor of her quiet way, un- 
conscious of her rapidly unfolding beauty, or of the 



A DISPENS]<:il OF EOUNTIES. 115 

admiration it was exciting. Soon she was left a widow 
with an infant son, and made her home with hei 
widowed mother. 

The personal charms of the young widow, united 
as they were, with manners cordial, frank, and gay 
excited the admiration and awakened the kind feelingi 
of all who came within their influence, and unaided by 
che extrinsic and accidental advantages of fortune or 
fashion, she became a general favorite, and the object 
not only of admiration, but of serious and devoted 
attachment. 

In October, 1794, Mrs. Todd wa^ married to Mr. 
Madison, then one of the most talented members of 
Congress, a statesman of wealth and social position, 
and withal a great and good man. She. had been a 
widow less than a year, and was at the time of her 
second marriage in the twenty-third year of her age. 
The ceremony was performed at " Harewood," Jeffer- 
son County, Virginia, the residence of her younger 
sister, Lucy, the wife of George Steptoe Washington. 
From this time forward, she lived at " Montpelier,'*' the 
rural home of Mr. Madison, until he was called again 
to public life. It was at this time of her life that she 
developed the loveliest traits of her noble character. 
Placed in a position where she could command re- 
sources, the warmth and generosity of her nature was 
displayed, not in lavish personal expenditures, but in 
dispensing the bounties bestowed upon her to all who 
came as suppliants, and in giving to her widowed 
mother and orphaned sisters a home. The blessings 
of her kindred, and the fond love of her husband, 



116 DOKOTllY V. .MADISON. 

gladdened tliese, the first years of her married life ; 
and her relatives and friends were made partakei*s of 
her abundance; while the tender attentions of Mr 
Madison to her aged mother filled her heart to reple- 
tion. Had she not been placed in a position harmo- 
nious to her nature, it is probable that her days would 
have been spent in indiri:erent adherence to a dull 
routine, and the rills of her heart which bubbled and 
sang so gleefully in the summer of her content, never 
been discovered beneath the weight of circumstances. 
Fortunately hers was a disposition to rightfully appre- 
ciate the gifts of fortune and social consideration, and, 
in accepting her bright future prospects, determined 
to nourish the smothered generousness of her soul. 
Hitherto her lot had been circumscribed and the lofty 
emotions of her heart been hushed ; but when the 
power was given her to do good, she filled the meas- 
ure of her life with the benedictions of humanity, 
and reii^ned in the aliections of her friends without a 
rival. 

Mr. Jefterson appointed Mr. ]\tadison Secretary of 
State in 1801, and in April of that year he removed 
with his family to Washington. Here her position 
was in perfect accordance with her disposition, and her 
house was a radiating point for every acquaintance. 
The great secret of her success lay in the innocence, 
which dwelt in her noble nature ; and this nobleness 
of innocence underlaid the dignity and high-minded* 
noss which attested an elevated nature. She drank 
the wine of human existence without the lees, and 
inhaled the perpetual Ixreath of summer, even after 



LIFE IN WASHINGTON. 117 

the snows of winter liad clogged tlie dull course of 
life. Slie was gifted with that whicli was better than 
Ithuriel's spear, whose touch reveals the beauty \vhich 
existed in every thing, for she was humble-hearted, 
tolerant, and sincere. Entirely free from malignant 
-cavil, her instinctive sympathy with the good and 
beautiful led her to seek it in every thing around her, 
and her life, if not devoted to the higher cultivation 
of the mind, developed the sunny brightness of her 
heart. The power of adaptiveness was a life-giving 
principle in Mrs. Madison's nature. With a desire 
to please, and a willingness to be pleased, she waspop- 
ular in society, and was to her husband a support and 
friend. Washington was little more than a wilderness 
when, in the spring, she commenced life there as the 
wife of a cabinet officer. The elements which com- 
bined to form the society of the Capital were various, 
and difficult to harmonize, and her situation was a del- 
icate one to fill ; yet she was loved by all parties, and 
embittered politicians who never met save at her hos- 
pitable board, there forgot " the thorns of public con- 
troversy under the roses of private cheerfulness." In 
those days, steamboats were just beginning, railroads 
unknown, stage-coaches extremely inconvenient, na- 
tional, indeed even turnpike roads were very rare, and 
the journeys were mostly performed in the saddle. 
The daughter of one of the Senators, who wished to 
enjoy the gayeties of the Capital, accompanied her father 
five hundred miles on horseback. The wife of another 
member not only rode fifteen hundred miles on horse- 
back, but passed thi'ough several Indian settlements, 



118 DOROTHY P. MADISON. 

for many niglits without a house to lodge in. Mrs. 
Madison herself had travelled from her Virginia home 
by easy stages, cumbered with household furniture, 
and stopping on the road to visit relatives ; occupying 
what seems to us at this day an incredible length of 
time to perform such a journey. Her house, after the 
President's, was the resort of most company, and the 
cordial manners of the hostess lent a peculiar charm to the 
frequent parties there assembled. " Individuals who 
never visited at the President's, nor met at the other 
ministerial houses, could not resist the softening influ- 
ences of her conciliatory disposition, of her frank and 
gracious manners, but frequented her evening circle, and 
sat at her husband's table." Political feuds ran high, 
and party spirit was more virulent than ever before 
experienced. Washington's administration had been a 
success, and in the eyes of the public he was not in- 
cluded in any party, but was above them all. Yet ho 
placed himself, when the question was of a political 
order, under the banner of the republican party, and 
" was the declared advocate of the unity and force of 
the central power." He insured its triumph during 
his two terms, and let his mantle descend upon one of 
his most attached friends. The democratic party, de- 
siring the rule of the majority, opposed to the pre- 
ponderance of the higher classes, and to aristocratic 
tendencies, overcame the successor of Washington, who 
was succeeded by Mr. Jefferson, the leader of the op- 
position. At the commencement of this era, Mrs. 
Madison appeared upon the scene, and gave to her 
husband that su})port which enhanced his popularity 



HOSTESS OF THE MANSION. 119 

as a pii1:>lic man, and made his iiouse the most popular 
place of resort in the city. During his eight years' 
life as Secretary of State, she dispensed with no nig- 
gard hand the abundant wealth she riglitly prized, 
and the poor of the District loved her name as a 
household deity. In 1810, Mr. Madison was elected 
President, and after Mr. Jefferson left the city, he re- 
moved to the White House. Under the former ad- 
ministration, Mrs. Madison had, during the absences of 
Mr. Jeffera.>n's daughters, presided at the receptions 
and levees, and was in ever}^ j^articular fitted to adorn 
her position as hostess of the mansion she was called 
to preside over. Every one in Washington felt that 
her watchful care and friendly interest would be in no 
wise diminished by her advancement to a higher po- 
sition ; and the magical effects of her snuff box were 
as potent in one capacity as another. The forms and 
ceremonials which had rendered the drawing-rooms of 
Mrs. Washington and Mrs. Adams dull and tedious, 
were laid aside, and no kind of stiffness was permitted. 
Old friends were not forgotten, or new ones courted ; 
but mild and genial to all, each person felt himself 
the object of vspecial attention, and all left her presence 
pleased and gratified with her urbanity and refinement. 
Possessing a most retenti^^e memory, she never mis- 
called a name, or forgot the slightest incident connected 
with the personal history of any one ; and therefore 
impressed each individual with the idea of their im- 
portance in her esteem. Mrs. Madison's sole aim was 
to be poj^ular and render her husband's administration 
brilliant and successful. Her field was the parlor; 



120 DOKOTTIY P. ]\IADISC)N. 

and witli the view of reigning supreme there, she ])eut 
the energies of her mind to tiie one idea of accom 
plishmeut. In her thirty-seventh year she entered the 
White House. Still youthful in appearance, denied 
the cares of maternity, which destroy the Idoom of 
beauty on the delicate faces of American womeu, slie as- 
sumed her agreeable position with no encumbrances, no 
crosses, in perfect health, the possessor of great beauty 
of featui'e and form, and eminently happy in the sincere 
regard of her Imsband. Contentment crowned her lot 
with happiness, and the first four years of her stay 
must have been one continued pleasure. With all her 
appi'eciation of admiration, she was not extravagant ; 
her house, during the time of Mr. Jefterson's term, was 
very plainly furnished, and in no way elegant. Like 
most Virginians, she delighted in company, and her 
liome was the most hospitable abode in Washington. 
Her table was her pride; and the superabundance of 
dishes, and their size, was a subject of ridicule to a 
foreign minister, who observed "that it was more like a 
harvest-home supper, than the entertainment of a Sec- 
retary of State." She heard of this and similar re- 
marks, and only observed with a smile, "that she 
thought abundance was preferable to elegance; that 
circumstances formed customs, and customs formed 
taste; and as the profusion so repugnant to foreign 
customs arose from the happy circumstance of the super- 
abundance and prosperity of our country, she did not 
hesitate to sacrifice the delicacy of European taste for 
the less elegant, but more liberal fashion of Virginia." 
But this time of prosperity was doomed, and war insa- 



A PANIC IN WASHINGTON. 121 

tiate was already treacling upon the sliores of tlie At- 
lantic. Mr. Madison, the peace-loving, humane Execu- 
tive, was compelled to declare war with Great Britain ; 
land after a time its actual presence was felt at the 
National Capital. June, 1812, is memorable as the 
second appeal of the United States to arms, to as- 
sert once more their rights as freemen ; and for three 
years its fierceness was felt from Canada to New Or- 
leans, and over the blue waters of the oceans of the 
world. 

" Generous British sentiments revolted at the de- 
struction of the American Capital : which might not 
have been branded with universal infamy if confined 
to navy yards, warlike implements, vessels of war, and 
even private rope-walks, if the enormity had stopped 
there. But no warfare can satisfy its abominable lust 
with impunity on libraries, public and private, halls 
of legislation, residences of magistrates, buildings of 
civil government, objects of art, seats of peace, and 
embodiments of rational patriotic pride/' 

"The day before the fall of Washington was one 
of extreme alarm, the Secretary of State wrote to the 
President : ' the enemy are advanced six miles on the 
road to the wood-yard, and our tropps are retreating. 
You had better remove the records.' Then com- 
menced the panic which was destined to grow more 
general the coming day. Tuesday night, every clerk 
was busy packing and aiding in the removal of valu- 
ables. Coarse linen bags were provided, and late in 
the evening, after all the work was over, and the bags 
were hanG^ino: round the room, readv at a moment's 

G 



122 DOROTHY P. MADISON. 

warning to be moved, Mr. Plensanton, one of the 
clerks, procured conveyances, and crossing the Poto- 
mac deposited them in a "mill three miles off. But 
fearing for their safety, he determined to go farther 
into the interior, and the next night slept at Leesburg, 
a small town thirty-five miles from Wasliirisrton. The 
liglit that shone against the cloudless sky revealed the 
fate of the city, and the doom of his charge had they 
delayed. Amongst the documents were the original 
Declaration of Inde2:)endence, the Federal Constitution, 
and General Washington's commission as Commander- 
in-Chief of the Army of the Revolution, which he re- 
linquished when he resigned it at Annapolis, (found 
among the rubbish of a garret). Scarcely had the 
wagon that bore the papers crossed the wooden 
bridge of the Potomac, than crowds of flying fugitives, 
men, women, and children, pressed upon it in such 
numbers as to render the threatened danger almost 
imminent. The frightened multitude swayed to and 
fro, seeking means of escape till night closed the horri- 
ble drama ; then upon Capitol Hill appeared the red- 
coated soldiery of the British army. Tlie sun sank 
beneath the golden sheen of fleecy clouds tliat floated 
softly over the soutliern horizon, but the going down 
of the king of day in no wise relieved the atmosphere. 
J)ust and heat were intolerable, and a rumor that the 
water was poisoned rendered the sufferings of the 
weary sokliers painful in the extreme. - For the sev- 
enth time that day, a retreat was commanded, and the 
city troops, mortified and enraged, refused to obey. 
Back from the city to tlie heights of Georgetown was 



A BLAZING CAPITAL. 123 

the order ; but how could they leave their families, theis 
homes and property, and march by those they were 
sworn to protect ! Down the long, broad, and solitai'y 
avenue past the President's now deserted house, 
through Georgetown, and some as fav as Tenlytown, 
the disorganized, demoralized remnant of the army 
strayed, and slept on the ground, lighted up by the 
fiery red glare from the burning buildings in Washing- 
ton. All night they lay alarmed and distressed, while 
but few could steal a moment's repose. The bursting 
shells in the navy yard were heard for miles, and each 
boom was a knell to the agonizing hearts, who knew 
not where their helpless ones were in this hour of 
hori'ors. 

" When the British marched slowly into the wil- 
derness city, by the lurid light that shot up from the 
blazing capitol, the population had dwindled down to 
a few strasrsrlers and the slaves of the absent residents. 
The houses, scattered over a large space, were shut, and 
no sign of life was visible. The President had crossed 
the Potomac early in the afternoon, and Mrs. Madison 
had followed in another direction. The bayonets of 
the British guard gleamed as they filed down the ave- 
nue, and the fulminations from the navy yard saluted 
them as they passed. Nothing but the prayers and 
entreaties of the ladies, and the expostulations of the 
nearest residents, deterred the British General Ross 
fi'om blowing up the Capitol ; but he ordered it to be 
fired at every point, and many housas near it were 
consumed. A house hard by, owned by General 
Washington, was destroyed, which, in justice to human 



124 DOROTHY P. MADISON. . 

nature be it said, the General regretted. Not so tlie 
Admiral, who ordered the troops to fire a volley in 
the windows of the Capitol and then entered to plun 
der. 

" I have, indeed, to this hour, (said Mr. Richard 
Rush, in 1855) the vivid impression upon my eye of 
columns of flame and smoke ascending throughout the 
night of the 24th of August from the Capitol, Presi- 
dent's house, and other public edifices, as the whole 
were on fire, some burning slowly, others with bursts 
of flame and sparks mounting high up in the dark 
horizon. This never can be forgotten by me, as I ac- 
comjianied out of the city, on that inemorable night in 
1814, President Madison, Mr. Ji)nes, then Secretary of 
the Navy, General Mason, of Anacostia Island, Mi*. 
Charles Carroll, of Belle vue, and Mr. Tench Ringgold. 
If at intervals the dismal sight was lost to our view, 
we got it again from some hill-top or eminence where 
we paused to look at it." 

It was among the stories wiien Congress met near 
the ruins three weeks afterward, that the Admiral in 
a strain of coarse levity, mounting the s])eaker''s chair 
put the question, " Shall this harbor of Yankee democ- 
racy be burned ? " and when the mock resolution wtis 
declared unanimous, it was cai-ried into effect by heap- 
ing combustibles under the furniture. The temporary 
wooden structure connecting the two wings, readily 
kindled. Doors, chairs, the library and its contents, 
in an upper room of the senate-wing, every thing that 
would take fire, soon disappeared in sheets of flame, 
illumiuatiiu!; and consternating the environs for thirty 



THE CAl'TUKE OF THE CITY. 125 

miles arouiul, whence the coiiflacrratiou was visibla 
Tlirough ^' the eternal Pennsylvania Avenue," the Ad- 
miral and General led their elated troops, where but a 
few houi's before the flying, scattered Americans, dis- 
mayed, ashamed, and disgusted, liad wended their sor- 
rowing way. The Capitol beliind them was wrapt in 
its winding robes of flame, and on through the darJ" 
ness they passed to that other liouse of the nation. 

An aged lady lived in the nearest residence to the 
Presidential Mansion, and here the ruilianly Cockburn 
and tlie quiet, sad General Ross halted and ordered 
sui'per, which they ate by the light of the burning 
buildings. A letter written by Mi's. Madison to her 
sister at jMonnt Vernon, gives us an insight into her 
feelings, although only detached items can be given. 



" Tuesday, August 23d, 18U. 

"Dear Sister: — My husband left me yesterday 
morning to join General Winder. He inquired anx- 
iously whether I had courage or firmness to remain in 
the President's House until his return, on the morrow 
or succeeding day, and on my assurance tliat I had no 
fear but for him and the success of our army, he left 
me, beseeching me to take cai'e of myself, and of the 
Cabinet papers, public and private. I have since re- 
ceived two dispatches from him wi'itten with a pencil; 
the last is alarming, because he desires that I should 
be ready at a moment's warning to enter my carriage 
and leave the city : that the enemy seemed stronger 
than had been reported, and that it might happen that 



rJO DOROTHY P. MADISON. 

they \viMil(l iH^u'li the city with intention to desti'oy \t 

* * * I mn ne<.'oi\lini;ly ready; I Imve pressed ns 
many Cabinet [)apers into trunks as to till one car- 
riage ; our private j)roperty must be sacrificed, as it is 
impossible to procure wagons for its transportation. 
I am determined not to go myself, nntil I see Mr. 
Madison safe and he can accompany me, — as I hear oi' 
much hostility toward him. * -x- * l)isaiVection 
stalks around us. * * My friends and acquaint- 
ances are all gone, even Colonel C\, with his lunnlred 
men, who were stationed as a guard in this enclosure. 

* * French John (a faithful domestic) with his usual 
activity and resolution, otVers to spike the' camion at 
the gate, and lay a train of powth'r which would blow 
up the British, should they enter the house. To the 
List proposition I positively object, without being able, 
however, to make him undei-stand why all advantages 
in war may not be taken. 

'^ Wtnlnesday morning, twelve o'clock. — Since sun- 
rise I have been turning my spy-glass in every direc- 
tion and watching with unweai'ied anxiety, ho])ing to 
discover the approach of my dear husband and his 
friends ; but, alas ! I can descry only groups of military 
wandering in all directions, as if there was a lack of 
arms, or of spirit.s, to fight for their own firesides ! 

"Three o'clock. — Will you believe ii, my sister? 
we have had a battle or skirmish near Bladensburgh, 
and I am still here within sound of the cannon ! Mj*. 
Madison comes not; may God protect him! Two 
messengers covered with dust coiner to bid me fiy ; but 
I wait for him. * * * At this late hour a wag- 



TiriO POiriMiAIT OK VVASlIINfrJ'ON. 127 

on has been pi-ociuod ; I liuvc liad it filled witli llie 
plate and most valuable; j)Oi'tablo ai'ticles belonging to 
the Ikjuso; whetlKM- it will reach its destination, the 
Bank of Maryland, or fall into the hands of Jiritish 
soldiery, events must determine. Our kind friend, Mi-. 
Carroll, has come to hasten my d(i[)arture, and is in a 
WQiYy bad humor with me Ixjcause I insist on waiting 
until the larg(3 picture of (General Wasliington is se- 
cured, and it i-e<piires to he unscrewed from the \Tall. 
This pi'ocess was found too tedious for these ]>ei-ilous 
moments; I have ordered the frame to Ix; brokcMi and 
the canvas tak(;n out ; it is done — and tin; ])recious 
poi'ti-ait placed -in the hands of two gentlemen of l^aw 
York for safe keeping. An<l now^ my dear sister, I 
must leave this luMise, ortlie retreating army will make 
me a prisoner in it, by filling up the i-oad 1 am di- 
i-ected to tak(;. When I shall again wi'ite to you, or 
where I shall b • to-mori-ow, I cannot tell ! '' 

On the removal of the seat of government to 
Washington, in 1800, a magnificent jjoi'trait of Genei'al 
Washington, j)airited by Stuart pai-tly, and completed 
by Winstanley, to whom Pi*esi<lent John Adams' 
Bon-in-law, Colonel Smith, stood for the unfinished 
limbs an<l body, hung in the state dining-i'oom. Colo- 
nel W. P. Custis, of Arlington, a grandson of Mrs. 
Washington, called at tin; Pi-esident's to save this pic- 
ture of his illustrious grandfather, in whose house he 
was reared. Then, as now, it was one of the very few 
ornaments which adorned the White House, and at the 
risk of capture Mi-s. Madison determined to save it. 
The servants of the house broke with an axe the 



128 DOKOTUY r. MADISON". 

heavy gilt frame whicli protected the inner one of 
wood, upon wliich th.e canvas was stretched, and re- 
moved, nuinjured, the painting, leaving the l)i'ok(Mi 
fragments screwed to the wall, whicli had held dis- 
tended the valued relic. Mrs. Madison then left the 
house, and the portrait was taken whole in the inner 
frame by Mr. Baker beyond Georgetown and placed 
in a secure position. 

"The Presidential household-god, the image of the 
Father of his Country — by whom its chief city was 
fixed near his home, and by whose name it was called 
— was thus snatched from the clutch or torch of the 
barbarian caj^tors." Plalf a century later, wdien the 
Wliite House was undergoing a renovation, this por- 
trait was sent, with many othei'S subsequently added 
to this solitary collection, to be cleaned and the frame 
burnished. The artist found on examination that the 
canvas had never been cut, since the rusted tacks, 
time-worn frame, and the size compared with the or- 
iginal picture, was the nuist conclusive evidence that 
Mrs. Madison did not cut it out with a carving-knife, 
as many traditions have industriously circulated. 

Tlie frame was a large one, hanging high on the 
wall, and it was impossible that a lady could by 
mounting a table be enabled to reach any but the 
lower portion ; then, too, in that moment of nervous 
alarm, the constant noise of cannon tilling each heart 
with dread, it seems improbable that any hand, above 
all a woman's, could be steady enough to cut, without 
ruining the canvas. 

Again, from the lips of a descendant, the assurance 



THli: ENEiMY IN 'I'llE WHITE HOUSE. 129 

is given that Mrs. Madison repeatedly asserted that 
Bhe did not cut it, but only lingered to sec^ it safely re- 
moved befoi'e she ste])ped into her waiting carriage 
and Avas driven i-apidly toward Georgetown. 

First to tlie residence of the Secretary of the Navy, 
then to Belleview, and joined by the family of Mr. 
Jones and Mr. Carroll, returned to town insisting that 
her terrified coachman should take lier back toward 
the President's house to look for Mr. Madison, whom 
she unexpectedly found near the lower bridge, attended 
by Mr. Monroe and Mr. Eush, who had reached the 
White House soon after she left it and stopped for re- 
freshments. 

It has been related that the British found a sump- 
tons meal sniokino- on the table when thev reached 
there after dark, and that they enjoyed the iced wines 
and cold ham, amusing themselves with the coarse as- 
sertion that " Jemmy" ran from his bacon " to save his 
bacon." Tlie low pun found ears ready to credit and cir- 
culate it, but the porter, who died but a few years since, 
has repeatedly asserted that the occupants of the house 
had been in such constant fright that but little had 
been cooked, and no regular meal partaken of that 
day ; that there was always plenty in the larder for 
any emergency, and a wine-cellar kept well stored, but 
that after the President's party had eaten on their ar- 
rival, sot)n after Mrs. Madison's departure, and given 
the remnants of their hasty meal to the tired, jaded 
soldiers of Col. Savol's regiment, that there was noth- 
uii;' left. 

Water was furnished the troops in buckets, and all 



130 DOKOTIIY P. MADISON. 

the wine in tlie lionse given them. John Sioiisa, the 
Frencli porter, after seeing the President and his at- 
tendants off, took the parrot belonging to Mrs. Madi- 
son to the residence of Col. Tayloe, and then retnrned 
and fastened the house securely and took the keys with 
him to Philadelphia. All the afternoon, pai-ties of 
straggling soldiers, on their way to Georgetown, hung 
about the house and grounds, and vagrant negroes pil- 
fered in spite of the efforts of the servants. Many 
articles were taken from the house to be secured and 
returned, as some were, but much was never restored. 
The porter secreted the gold and silver mounted car- 
bines and pistols of the Algerian minister, which are 
now in the patent office, but the revolvers belonging 
to the Secretary of the Treasury, which the President 
laid on a table, were stolen. 

Gloating with revenge, at the escape of the Presi- 
dent and his wife, " whom they wanted to show in Eng 
land," the enemy broke open the doors of the Wliite 
House, and ransacked it from cellar to garret, finding 
nothing of value, or as objects of curiosity, save a 
small parcel of the pencil notes received from her hus- 
band by Mrs. Madison, while he was with the troo|)s, 
which she had rolled up together and put in a table 
drawer. To all the rest of the contents : furniture, 
wines, provisions, groceries, and famil}^ stores, which 
cost Mr. Madison twelve thousand dollars, together 
Avith an excellent library, the torch was applied. Fire 
was procured at a small beer house opposite the Trea- 
sury to light the buildings with, and while the com* 
mandcrs were eatin<:r their eveniuir meal at the house 



THE TORCH APPLMD. 131 

of Mrs. Suter, on the corner, the common sohiiors, to- 
getlier with the negroes mid thieves of all grades, were 
})illaging the ra])idl3^ burning buildings. 

The White House was not so large or complete 
then as now; the east room, which had served Mrs. 
Adams for a drying room, was unfurnished and unoc- 
cupied, and the front vestibule not then added, which 
so greatly enhances the interior of the present man- 
sion. The House was plain, unfiiiislied, and totally 
destitute of ornament, the grounds uninclosed, and 
materials for building purposes lying scattered about 
the woods which have since become the ornament of 
this portion of the city. Nothing but the lateness of 
the houi', and the storm coming on, saved the War De- 
partment. The squadron which was to have cooper- 
ated with them, failing to come, filled tlie o Hcers with 
timorous fear, and they determined to evacuate the 
city the next day unless it should arrive in the mean 
time. For over a week the unhappy citizens of Wash- 
ington had not slei)t or pursued the avocations of daily 
life. Constant rumors and frights had unnerved the 
stoutest hearts, and families fleiung from a foreign foe 
rendered the situation of those who could not leave 
more distressing. Every vehicle had been ])res> "1 in- 
to service and valuables scattered over the counti- for 
Bafety. The city contained about eight tliousan 1 in- 
habitants, living at great distances, of wh nn n t mo'e 
than one tenth ]-emained in its limits to se the en- 
hance and exit of the British army. Over the long 
bridge, until it was in danger of giving wa}^, through 
fche country into the interior of Maryland and beyond 



132 DOEOTIIY P. MADISON. 

the Georgetown limits, the flying, frightened people 
wandered, not caring whither or how they went, so 
that they escaped from their remorseless foes. It was 
a whole week, said the aged Mrs. Suter (at whoso 
honse the intruders demanded supper), of great 
trouble, hardly sleeping at night and all the day spent 
in fright. After the terrors of that sad week and 
dreadful day, the capitol and other buildings blazing, 
the navy yard fearfully exploding, a rain set in which 
in intensity and duration was scarcely ever witnessed, 
and which continued during the following day. A 
British narrator states, " that the most tremendous hur- 
ricane ever remembered by the oldest inhabitant in the 
place came on. Of the prodigious force of the wind, 
it is imjjossible for you to form any conception. Roofs 
of houses were torn off by it, and whisked into the air 
like sheets of paper ; while the rain wliich accompa- 
nied it resembled the rushing of a mighty cataract, 
rather than the dropping of a shower. The darkness 
was as great as if the sun had long set and the last re- 
mains of twilight had come on, occasionally relieved 
by flashes of vivid lightning streaming through it, 
which together with the noise of the wind and the 
thunder, the crash of falling buildings, and the tearing 
of roofs as they were stripped fi'om the walls pro- 
duced the most appalling effect I shall pi'obaldy 
ever witness. This lasted for nearly two hours 
without intermission ; during which time many of the 
houses spared by us were blown down, and thirty of 
our men, Ijesides several of the inhabitants, buried be- 
neath tluir ruins. Our column was as completely dis* 



EVACUATION BY THE 13K1TISII. 133 

pei-sed as if it had received a total defeat ; some of tlie 
men flying for shelter behind walls and buildings, and 
others ftilliiig flat npon the ground to prevent them- 
selves from being carried away by the tempest ; nay, 
such was the violence of the wind that two pieces of 
cannon which stood upon the eminence, were fairly 

lifted from the ground and borne several yards to tlie 

J) 
rear. 

This second storm, which was most terrifying to the 
British, unaccustomed as they were to the grand for- 
ests and heavy rains of America, was, if possible, 
more destructive than the one of the night before. It 
commenced about one o'clock in the afternoon and was 
so awful to the troops that they neglected to fire the 
post-office, and Congress was thereby saved the neces- 
sity of being driven to Georgetown or Philadelphia, 
when it again met in three weeks. After an occupa- 
tion of twenty-nine hours, the British withdrew and 
Washington was evacuated. 

Mrs Madison, after meeting her husband, accom- 
panied him to the banks of the Potomac, where one 
small boat was kept ready — of the many others all 
sunk or removed but that one — to transport the 
President, ]\Ir. I^louroe, Mr. Bush, Mr. Mason, and Mr. 
Carroll to the Viiginia shore. The l:)oat was too small 
to carry all at once, so that several trips were necessary ; 
and as the shades of night set in upon them, they looked 
like departing spirits leaving the world behind, to be fei- 
ried over an inevitable Styx. Bidding them adieu as the 
last one entered the frail bark, Mrs. Madison returned t* 
her friends at Georgetown, but agreeably to her huo 



134 DOKOTIIY J>. MADISON. 

build's orders, she started on to a more secure retreat. ' The 
I'oads were so blocked with wagons that then* progress 
was very slow, and they left their carriages and walked 
to relieve their anxiety. Crowds of soldiers, panic- 
stricken, were retracing their steps to the remnant of 
troops with General Winder. Families, with their 
conveyances loaded down with household goods, moved 
slowly forward, amid the tumult, while the coming 
darkness increased the general alarm. Long after 
dark, the party accompanying Mrs. ]\Iadison reached 
the residence of Mr. Love, on the Virginia side of the 
Potomac, where they begged the privilege of remain- 
ing all night. There was little need of beds for tliat 
agitated band of frightened women, and the night was 
passed by some in tears ; by Mrs. Madison in sitting by 
an open window, gazing back upon the weird and fan- 
tastic ilames as they met and lapped in the far dis- 
tance. Smothered rumbling noises started the listening 
ear, jxs ever and anon some huge edifice or wing of a 
building fell in. The gentlemanly owner of the house 
was away with the troops, and his wife was ill and 
alone with her servants, but the sudden visit of so 
many strangers was no check to the hospitality of the 
hostess. Every sofa and available substitute was 
brought into requisition, and all rendered comforta])le. 
Sleej) was banished from all eyes, even had any been 
inclined to repose. The clanking, clattering noise of 
several hundred disorderly cavalrymen around the 
house kept every one awake, while all felt the desolate 
weariness of the night w;is Uut a harbinger of the 
coming day. " What must have been the feelings of 



FLIGHT INTO VIRGINIA. 135 

the occupants of tliat house that summer night, we of 
the present day cannot realize," writes an eminent his* 
torian in 1842 ; but those v/ho had not " fallen asleep''" 
when the summer of 1862 caine upon us, endured sim- 
ilar hours of anguish, which seared their hearts for- 
ever. No scene of horror was enacted in or about 
Washington in that week of excitement that has not 
been repeatedly paralleled in these later years of civil 
war. 

Long before day, the sleepless caravan, with Mrs. 
Madison at the head, started forward to the place ap- 
pointed for a meeting with Mr. Madison. Consterna- 
tion was at its uttermost : the whole resrion filled with 
frightened people, terrified scouts roaming about and 
spreading alarm that the enemy were coming from 
Washington and Alexandria, and that there was safety 
nowhere. As the day wore on, in which the British 
were plundering and burning Washington, the storm 
that sent terror to their superstitious bosoms overtook 
the tired refugees. But the elemental war, with its 
bolts of thunder and zigzag lightning penetrating the 
darkened recesses of the forest, caused no feeling so in- 
supportable as the flying rumor that the negroes were 
in revolt, and maddened with drink and promised lib- 
erty, were roaming in numl)ers, committing every ex- 
cess, worse than those at Hampton the year before. 
A.S the day gradually drew to a close, the faint and 
drenched companions of Mrs. Madison reached the ap- 
pointed place, sixteen miles fjom Washington. But 
the President was not there, and here occurred one of 
those disagreeable scenes that are a disgrace to the name 



136 DOROTHY P. MADISON. 

of liuiiianity, and which, be it said to the shame of 
her sex, are oftener the acts of woman than of man. 
Crowds of persons from Washington occupied the tav- 
ern, and the women dechired that the wife of him who 
had brought war upon the country, shoukl not find shel- 
ter with them, its innocent victims. Jaded and ex- 
hausted from constant travel and want of sleep, the 
devoted band about Mrs. Madison waited in the storm, 
urging the tavern-keeper to give them an apartment 
until the President should arrive. The furious storm 
grew louder, the sky lowering before, was black as 
night now, and a tornado of tropical fury set in which 
spread desolation for many miles around. Women 
who had repeatedly enjoyed the hospitalities of the 
White House, been admitted with kind cordiality to 
drawing-rooms and dinings, now vied with the wife of 
the landlord in denouncing vehemently the inclination 
of the men present to admit the Presidential party. 
Embittered by their real and imaginary wrongs^ they 
lost all sense of honor and refinement, and stood in 
their true colors before the lady who never for one 
moment forgot the dignity becoming her station. She 
preferred the fury of the storm to contention ; but the 
escort with her, indignant at the contemptible conduct 
of the rude persons within, obliged the ungracious oc- 
cupants to open the doors. The old tavern stood in 
the midst of an apple orchard laden with ri23ening 
fruit, and hardly had the travellers left their carriages 
when the hurricane dashed the apples, ofttimes the en- 
tire trees, witli fearful strength against the house. 
Mrs. Madison spread the lunch she had prepared the 



INGUATITUBE OF THE WOMEN. 187 

day before at the White House, and in silence, inter* 
rupted only by her inquiries for the welfare of her at- 
tendants, they ate their damp food and smothered the 
intense disgust they felt for families who only the day 
before they deemed firm friends. The hours dragged 
slowly on, and the anxious wife looked in vain for her 
absent liusband. Did she, in that hour of grief and 
huraihation, think of her illustrious predecessors who 
had endured like her the black ins^ratitude of the 
women of her country ? Had she forgotten that the 
ladies of Philadelphia, in 177(3, refused to Mrs. Wash- 
ington similar attention, and treated with scorn the 
wife of the Commander-in-chief, who was using every 
human endeavor to organize and establish a conti- 
nental army ? Or did it recur to her that a time 
would come when, like Mrs. Washington, she would 
again, through the brightening prospects of peace, re- 
ceive the flattering adulation of those very persons, 
and the respect and admiration of the more cultivated 
throughout the land ? Did she think of that strong, 
resolute " Portia" of the Kevolution who, in her mod- 
est home near the sea, denied and scorned the report 
that her husband had deserted to the British, yet who 
patiently submitted to the averted looks, and silent re- 
proaches of those whom she deemed her friends, and 
waited for the storm to blow over, and truth once more 
to triumph ? Philadelphia was a great distance then 
from the coast of Massachusetts, and mails were 
brought only at rare intervals, but with her strong 
faith she trusted in her husband's honor and felt that 
it was not betrayed. Time corrected the false rumor, 



138 DOROTHY P. MADISON. 

but her heart had been deeply wounded, and It never 
forgot, if it forgave, the conduct of many who, in her 
hour of trial, turned against her. 

Nervous and impatient, Mi's. Madison waited in 
her inhospitable quarters for the President's coming ; 
and as night came on, her mind was relieved ])y seeing 
him approaching, accompanied by the friends with 
whom sLe left him the night before. He was care- 
worn and hungry, and after devouring the remnants 
of her scanty meal, sought the repose he so needed. 
"That uneasy and humiliating repose, not the last of 
Mr. Madison's degradations, was, however, the turning 
point of his fortunes: for while he slept, Koss hastily 
and clandestine!}^ evacuated Washington, victorand van- 
quished alike victims of, and fugitives from, imagined 
perils." But the terrified citizens kne^v not that the 
British were impotent, and dismayed at the non-aj)- 
peai-ance of their fleet. Every crash of thunder was to 
them a source of alarm, and its rumblings in the distant 
clouds the imagined noise of approaching troops. Tow- 
ard midnight, a courier, breathless from fatigue and 
excitement, warned the President that the enemy were 
coming, and he was compelled to pass the rest of that 
misei'able night in a hovel in the distant woods, with 
the boughs sobbing and sighing their requiem around 
him, and the last efforts of the storm expending itself 
in moans, while the wind swept through the tall trees. 
The atmosphere was cooled by the great and prolonged 
storm, but all nature seemed to weep from exhaustion, 
and the stillness of the closing hours of the night were 
in marked contrast to the roar and din of the past 
twenty-four hours. 



i\IJ;F. MADISON IN DISGUISE. 139 

Mrs. Madison was warned by lier husband to use a 
disguise, and leaving her carriage and companions, pro- 
cure another conveyance and fly further. Attended 
by a nephew of Judge Duvall, she set out accompanied 
by one soldier, and at the dawn of day left the inhospit- 
able inn where the most unhappy night of her life had 
been passed. Her carriage and four horses were left with 
her friends, and a substitute obtained from a gentleman 
of Georgetown. Soon tidings reached her that Washing- 
ton was evacuated, and retracing her steps, she reached 
after a weary ride the Long Bridge, which had been 
burned at both ends. Here the officer in charge positive- 
ly refused to let an unknown woman cross in a carriage 
in his onl}^ remaining boat. No alternative was left her 
but to send for him and explain who she was, when she 
was driven in her carriage upon the dangerous little 
raft, which bore her nearer home. Keaching Wash- 
ington, so disguised that no one knew her, in a strange 
carriage, she found her former home in I'uins, and the 
noblest buildings reduced to blackened heaps of smok- 
ing timber. Desolation met her on every side, and the 
deserted streets were as quiet as the depths of the for- 
est through which she had passed. Fortunately her 
sister, Mrs. Cutts, lived in the city, and she repaired 
there to await Mr. Madison's return. " The memory 
of the burning of Washington cannot be obliterated. 
The subject is inseparable from great international 
principles and usages. It never can be thought of by 
an American, and ought not to be thought of by an 
enlightened Englishman, but in conjunction with the 
deplorable and reprehensible scenes it j'ecalls. It was 



140 DOROTHY p. MADISON. 

no tro-pliy of war for a great nation. History cannot 
so record it. Our infant metropolis at that time had 
the aspect of merely a straggling village, but for the 
size and beauty of its public buildings. Its scattered 
population scarcely numbered eight thousand ; it had 
no fortresses or sign of any ; not a cannon was 
mounted." 

Late in the morning, news reached the President at 
his hiding-place in the hovel, that the enemy were re- 
treating to their shipping — and he, too, turned his 
steps toward the capital, and found his wife before 
him. He rented the house called the Octagon, owned 
by Colonel Tayloe, where his family passed the winter, 
and where he signed the treaty of peace. 

It was situated on the north-east corner of New 
York Avenue and Eighteenth street. He afterward 
removed to the north-west corner of Pennsylvania 
Avenue and Nineteenth street, where he resided until 
the President's House was repaired. This house had 
been previously occupied by the Treasury Depart- 
ment. On F street, in a house between Thirteenth 
and Fourteenth streets, now numbered 246, Mr. and 
Mrs. Madison lived when he was Secretary of 
State. All three of these residences still remain. 

At the last New Year's Keception held by Presi- 
dent Madison, he was dressed in a full suit of cloth 
of American manufacture, made of the wool of meri- 
noes raised in the United States. 

"An old citizen has informed me," says Mr. 
Gobright, in his "Men and Things at Washington," 
"that the Invee of Mr. Madison, in February, 



A BEILLIANT LEVEE. 141 

1816, was remembered for years as the most bril- 
liant ever held up to that date in the Executive 
Mansion. The Justices of the Supreme Court were 
present in their gowns, at the head of whom was 
Chief Justice Marshall. The Peace Commissioners 
to Ghent — Gallatin, Bayard, Clay, and Russell — 
were in the company. Mr. Adams alone was 
absent. The levee was additionally brilliant — the 
heroes of the war of 1812, Major-Generals Brown, 
Gaines, Scott, and Ripley, with their aides, all in full 
dress, forming an attractive feature. The return of 
peace had restored the kindest feeling at home and 
abroad. The Federalists and Republicans of both 
Houses of Congress, party politicians, citizens, and 
strangers were brought together as friends, to be 
thankful for the present, and to look forward with de- 
light to the great future. 

"The most notable feature of the evening was 
the magnificent display of the Diplomatic Corps, 
prominent in which was Sir Charles Bagot, spe- 
cial ambassador from our late enemy, Gre/it Brit- 
ain. 

" It was on this occasion that Mr. Bascot made the 
remark, that Mrs. Madison ' looked every inch a 
queen.' 

"The only incident of a disagreeable character was 
the coolness toward the French minister (who was 
very popular with the Republicans) by the Represen- 
tatives of the Holy Alliance. 

" Mrs. Madison, like Mr. Clay, was very fond of 
snuff. The lady offered him a pinch fiom her splendid 



142 DOllOTllY r. MADISON. 

box, wliieli tlie gentleman accepted with the grace for 
whicli lie was distinguislied. Mrs. Madison put lier 
Land into her pocket, and pulling out a bandanna 
handkerchief, said, ' Mr. Clay, this is for rough work,' 
at the same time applying it at the proper place ; ' and 
tliis,' producing a fine lace handkerchief from another 
pocket, * is my polisher.' She suited the actions to the 
words, removing from her nose the remaining grains of 
smitlV 

Mrs. Madison at this time was represented as being 
a very gay lady, witli much rouge on lier clieeks, and 
always appearing in a turban. She was fond of bright 
colors and the elegances of the toilet ; yet she gener- 
ally wore inexpensive clothing, preserving always the 
simplicity of a quaker, with the elegance of a lady of 
taste. 

Two plain ladies from the West, passing through 
Washington, determined to see Mrs. Madison ; l)ut as 
they reached there late at night and were to leave 
early next day, they were much puzzled to know 
how tlie feat should be j)erformed. Meeting in the 
street an old gentlemnn next morning, they timidly 
approached and nskcd Idm to show them the way to 
the President's House. Being an old acquaintance of 
Mrs. Madison's, he took pleasure in conducting the 
strangers to the White House. The President's ftimily 
were at breakfast when the party arrived, but Mrs. 
Madison good-naturedly went in to be seen by the 
curious old ladies, who were evidently much astonished 
to find so august a personage in a dark-gray dress and 
white ajn'on, with a linen handkerchief ])inned about 



GENEKAL IIAIIKISON AT THE J.EVEE. 143 

her neck. Iler friendly welcome soon put tliem at 
ease, and rising to leave, after a visit never to be for- 
gotten, one of them said, " Frliaps you wouldn't mind 
if I jest kissed you, to tell my gals about." Mrs. 
Madison, not to l)e outdone by her guest's politeness, 
gracefully saluted each of the delighted old ladies, 
who adjusted their spectacles, and, Avitli evident ad- 
miration, departed. 

At a drawing-room held by Mrs. Madison in 1813, 
'* General Harrison was the subject of a disj)ute be- 
tween a lady of great beauty and high, coiniections, 
and the President. She observed when she went in, 
that General Harrison had received her commands to 
meet her at the levee. ' But that he cannot do,' said 
Mr. Madison, ' because he left Washington this morn- 
ing, with his horses and attendants, all at the door of 
this house, and must now be some twenty or thirty 
miles on his way to the West.' ' Still,' replied the lady, 
archly, ' he must he here, for I laid my command upon 
him, and he is too gallant a man to disobey me.' Tlie 
President rejoined, with his manner of gentle, Init pos- 
itive assurance, 'we shall soon see whose orders he 
obeys.' The question was presently settled by the 
General's appearance;, with his military attendants, in 
full costume; tlni lady smiling at her tiiiimph over the 
most successful General of that day and the President 
of the United States." 

Mr. Madison was a silent, grave man, whose nature 
was relieved by a vein of quiet good-humoi', which in 
his moments of relaxation gave an inexpressible cliarni 
to his presence. A statesman of vast mind and re- 



V 

144 DOEOTHY P. MADISON. 

search, lie could not always descend to the graceful 
little accomplishments which were so attractive to many 
ladies, and hence he was not so universally admired 
hy the fair sex as his charming wife was by the gen- 
tlemen ; but nothing gave him more pleasant satisfac- 
tion than to feel that Mrs. Madison could do credit to 
both in the drawing-room, and he was willing to be 
banished to his cabinet. 

When Mr. Madison was attending Congress in 1783, 
he became attached to an interesting and accomj)lished 
young lady, daughter of an old friend of Mr. Jeffei^on, 
who was a co-signer with him of the Declaration of 
Independence.* This attachment, which promised at 
one time the most auspicious result, terminated at last 
in disappointment. I cannot forbear to add the fol- 
lowing extract of a letter addressed to him on the occa- 
gion by Mr. Jefferson, as connected with an event which 
is never without importance in the life of a man of vir- 
tuous sensibilities, and as affording a touching proof of 
the intimate and fraternal sympathies which united the 
two friends. 

" I sincerely lament," he said, " the misadventure 
which has happened, from whatever cause it may have 
happened. Should it be final, however, the world still 
presents the same and many other sources of happiness, 
and you possess many within yourself. Firmness of 
mind, and unintermitting occupation will not long 
leave you in pain. No event has been more contrary 
to my expectations, and these were founded on what I 

* General ■Willinin Floyil, one of the delegates of New York. 



DIPLOMATIC ETIQUETTE. 145 

tliouglit a good knowledge of tlie ground. But of all 
macliiues, ourt* is the most complicated and inexpli- 
cable." 

A curious coincidence connected witli three of the 
the four first Presidents is, that they married widows, 
and each had been at a previous time seriously inter 
ested in other ladies. It is also remarkable that nei- 
ther Washington, Jefferson, Madison, or his successor, 
had sons, and two of them were childless. 

Mrs. Madison was not a learned woman, but de- 
cidedly a talented one, and her name \vill ever be a 
synonym for all that is chai'ming and agreeable. 

A Avai"ni admirer of hers was convincing a friend 
that she was not vain ; " But," said the other, " you tell 
me she used rouge and powder." " Yes, yes, she did," 
he replied, " but it was to })lease and gratify those who 
were thrown with her, not because she was fond of 
admiration." 

An anecdote is related of Mrs. Madison in connec- 
tion with Mrs. Merry, wife of the British Minister, 
and Thomas Moore, the poet. Mr. and Mrs. Merry 
were invited to dine with President Jefferson ; when 
dinner was announced, Mrs. Madison hapjoened to be 
standing and talking to the President, at some dis- 
tance from Mrs. Merry, and he offered his arm to her 
and conducted her to the table, where she always pre- 
sided when no members of his family were present. 
This attention to the wife of the Secretary of State 
was considered by Mrs. Merry as an insult. "Such 
a stir was made by the angry ambassador, that Mr. 
Madison wrote to Mr. Monroe (who had succeeded 



146 DOROTHY P. MADISON". 

Mr. King as our Minister to England) apprising liini 
of the facts, to enable liim to answer an expected call 
of tlie British Government for official explanations. 
Mr. Monroe, hoAvever, got his first information from a 
friendly British under-secretary, who intimated that he 
would soon probably hear of the matter through a 
di iferent chann el. The Minister was delighted. W i th- 
in a very short period, the wife of an English under- 
secretary had been accorded precedence over his own, 
under analogous circumstances. He had no great fund 
of humor, but the absurdity of the whole affair, and 
the excellent materials in his possession for a reply to 
a call for explanations, struck him in a most amusing 
lisfht. Shakini'' with merriment, he hinted to his in- 
formant the satisfaction the call Avould give him. He 
never afterward heard a lisp on the subject." 

President Jt^fferson had abolished all etiquette in 
regard to official precedence when he went in office, 
and IMrs. Merry knew this, but she never foi-gave the 
occurrence, and never afterward went to the White 
House. Mrs. Madison resrretted beino; the innocent 
cause of such a trouble, Init she was spared further 
notoriety by the abscmce of the British Minister or his 
family ever afterward at the President's reunions. 
The affair was, however, not destined to end here, for 
after the first clamor had subsided, the President, 
through another foreign Minister, inquired if Mr. and 
Mrs. Merry would accept an invitation to a family din- 
ner. It was understood that they would accept, and 
Mr. Jefferson wrote the invitation himself. Mr. Merry 
addressed a note to the Secretary of State to knoAV if 



RETIEE TO PRIVATE LIFE. 147 

he was invited in Lis private or official capacity ; "if 
in the one, he must obtain the permission of liis sover- 
eign ; if in the other, he must receive an assurance in 
advance that he woukl be treated as became liis posi- 
tion." Mr. Madison ended tlie correspondence with 
" a very dry note." Thomas Moore, who was travel- 
lino; in the United States at this time, and beino- a 
friend of Mrs. Merry's, and disgusted with his recep- 
tion, " fell to lampooning the President and every thing 
American, except a few attentive Federal gentlemen 
and ladies." 

In 1817, President Madison's term expired, and his 
Secretary of State, James Monroe, assumed the duties 
of President. Washiii2:ton had so lono; been the home 
of Mrs. Madison, that it was with much regret she 
prepared to leave the city. Many and dear were her 
friends, and the society of relatives was another strong 
link binding her to the city. 

The National Republican of November 2d, 1831, 
thus speaks of Mr. and Mrs. Madison : 

" How must they look in these days on the tem- 
pestuous sea of liberty ; on the dangers incident to the 
little barks now floating on its agitated surface. Can 
tliey feel for the safety of that on which embarked the 
fortunes of Henry Clay ? We hope and trust they 
do ; and at any rate we rejoice that, safe in port, they 
can review with just pride and pleasure their own safe 
and triumphant voyage, and can recollect the auspi- 
cious day of their landing. One of them the rallying 
point, the beginning and end of the cabinet in all of its 
just works, and the other the chief ornament and glory 



148 DOROTHY r. mauison. 

of the dr.avviii<]j-room, in the purest and most iiitclHgeiit 
days of our Kcpublic." 

" Always fond of agricultural pursuits, Mr. Madi- 
son joyfully returned to bis beautiful and peaceful 
home. Montpelier was within less than a day's ride 
of Monticello, and in the estimate of a Virginian, Mr. 
Jefferson and Mr. Madison were neighbors. 

" Embosomed among the hills which lie at the foot 
of the South Mountain, is the paternal estate of Mr. 
Madison. A large and commodious mansion, designed 
moi'c for comfort and hospitality than ornament and 
display, rises at the foot of a high wooded hill, which, 
while it affords shelter from the north-west winds, adds 
much to the picturesque beauty of the scene. The 
grounds around the house owe their ornaments more 
to nature than art, as, with the exception of a fine gar- 
den behind, and a wide-spread lawn before the house, 
for miles around the ever-varying and undulating sur- 
face of the ground is covered witli forest trees. The 
extreme salubrity of the situation induced the pro- 
pi'ietor to call it Montpelier. 

" One wing of the house during her life-time, waa 
exclusively appropriated to the venerable and vene- 
rat(Hl motlier of Mr. Madison, to which were attached 
offices and gardens, forming a separate establishment, 
wlicu'e this aged matron preserved the habits and the 
hours of her early life, attended by old family slaves, 
and surrounded by her children and grandchildren. 

" Under the same roof, divided only by a partition 
wall, were thus exhibited the customs of the beginning 
and end of a century ; thus offering a strange but 



MONITELIER. 149 

most interesting exhibition of the differences between 
the olden and the present age. By only opening a 
door, the observer passed from the elegancies, refine- 
ments, and gayeties of modern life into all that was 
venerable, respectable, and dignified in gone-by days ; 
from the airy apartments — windows opening to the 
ground, hung with light silken drapery, French furni- 
ture, light fancy chairs, gay carpets, cfec, tfec, to the 
solid and heavy carved and polished mahogany furni- 
ture darlvcni'd by age, the thick rich curtains, and 
other more comfortable adjustments of our great- 
grandfathers' times. It was considered a great favor 
and distinction by the gay visitors who thronged Mrs. 
Madison's hospitable mansion, to be admitted to pay 
the homage of their respects to his reverend mother." 
The last time the writer * enjoyed that privilege, she 
was then in her ninety-seventh year. She still rctahied 
all her faculties, though not free from the bodily in- 
firmities of age. She was sitting, or rather reclining, 
on a couch ; beside her was a small table filled with 
large, dark, and worn quartos and folios of most vener- 
able a]:)pearance. She closed one as we entered, and took 
lip her knitting which lay beside her. Among other in- 
quiries, I asked her how she passed her time, " I am 
never at a loss," she replied, " this and these (touching 
her knitting and Ihu- books) keep me always busy ; look 
at my fingers, and you will perceive I have not been 
idle." In truth, her delicate fingers were polished by 
her knitting-needles. " And my eyes, thanks be to 

M. II. S., 1836. 



150 DOROTHY P. MADISON. 

God, have not failed me yet, and I read most part of 
the day ; but in other respects I am feeble and help- 
less, and owe every thing to her," pointing to Mrs. 
Madison, who sat by us. '* She is my mother now, and 
tenderly cares for all my wants." My eyes were filled 
with tears as I looked from the one to the other of 
these excellent women, and thought of the tender ties 
by which they were united. Never, in the midst of a 
splendid drawing-room, surrounded by all that was 
courtly and brilliant, all that was admired and re- 
spected — ^the centre of attraction — the object of ad- 
miration — never was Mrs. Madison so interesting, so 
lovely, so estimable, as in her attendance on this ven- 
erable woman, the acknowledged object of her grate- 
ful affection. 

" Much as she graced her public station, she has 
not been less admirable in domestic life. Neighborly 
and companionable among her country friends, as if 
she had never lived in a city; delighting in the society 
of the young, and never better pleased than when 
promoting every youthful pleasure by her participa- 
tion ; she still proved herself the affectionate and de- 
voted wife during the years of suffering health of her 
excellent husband. Without neglecting the duties of 
a kind hostess, a faithful friend and relative, she 
soothed and enlivened, occupied and amused, the 
languid hours of his long confinement ; he knew, aj> 
preciated, and acknowledged the blessing which heav- 
en had bestowed on him in giving him such a wife." 

From a daughter of Virginia, who was once an in- 
mate of the White House, I have gathered the follow* 



MRS. Madison's popularity. 151 

ing words of interest from a letter in reference to th(? 
subject of this sketcli : 

"My recollections of Mrs. Madison are of the most 
agreeable nature, and were formed from a long, inti- 
mate acquaintance beginning in my childhood and 
ending only with her life. She had a sweet, natural 
dignity of manner which attracted while it commanded 
respect; a proper degree of reserve without stiffness in 
company with strangers ; and a stamp of frankness and 
sincerity which, with her intimate friends, became gay- 
ety and even playfulness of manner. There was, t;O0 
a cordial, genial, sunny atmosphere surrounding her, 
which won all hearts — I think one of the secrets of 
her immense popularity. She was said to be, during 
Mr. Madison's administration, the most popular person 
in tlie United States, and she certainly had a remark- 
able memory for names and fices. No person intro- 
duced to Mrs. Madison at one of the croAvded levees 
at the White House required a second introduction on 
meeting her again, but had the gratification of being 
recognized and addressed by his or her own name. 
Her son, Paine Todd, was a notoriously l^ad character. 
His misconduct was the sorrow of his mother's life. 
Mr. Madison, during his lifetime, bore with him like a 
father and paid many of his debts, but he was an in- 
corrigible spendthrift. His heartless, unprincipled con- 
duct embittered the last years of his mother's life, and 
no doubt shortened it." 

At about sixty -six years of age Mr. Madison retired 
from public life, and ever after resided on his estate in 
Virginia, except about two months while at Eiclimond 



152 UOIIOTIIY p. MADJSOjST. 

iiH .'I iiieinhor of the cunveiitloii in 1829, wliicli sat tliere 
to roinodel the coiistitntiou of tli.'it state. His fiirm, 
liis l)ooks, liis fritMids, and his correspondence, were the 
sources of his enjoyment and occupation during tlie 
twenty years of his retirement. During most of tliat 
time Ids liealth, never j'ohust, was as good as usual, and 
he jtartook with pleasure of the exercise and the con- 
viviality in which he had always enjoyed himself. 

At eighty-dve years of age, though much reduced 
l)y debility, his mind was bright, his niemuryretentivci, 
and his conversation highly instructive and delightful. 
Sulfering with disease he never repined. Serene and 
even lively, he still loved to discuss the constitution, to 
inculcate the ])ublic good, and to charge his friends 
with l)lessings for liis country. He was long one of 
th(! most interesting shrines to which its votaries re- 
paired : a relic of repuldican virtue which none could 
contem])late without reverence and edification. 

On the 28tli of June, 188G, he died; as serene, 
philosophical, and calm in the last moments of exist- 
ence as he had been in all the trying occasions of life. 

In the winter of 1836, Mrs. Madison wrote to 
President Jackson in regard to a manuscript left by her 
husband and which he inteiuled for publication. Tlie 
copyright had becui offered to several publishing 
houses, but their offers had fallen so far below her 
expectations that she determined to lay the matter be- 
fore the Chief Magistrate. In a s})ccial message, the 
President communicated the contents of her letter to 
Congress, and the manuscript was ])urchased as a na- 
tional work, and thirty thousand dollars paid her for it 



A nation's gratitude. 153 

Tlie novel and interesting features of the case, the 
venerable relict of one of the founders of the Kepub- 
lic coming before the country with a manuscript pre- 
cious in its relation to its national destiny, were such 
that the proposition was not to be met with a cold ap- 
preciation of merits, or with nice questions of congres- 
sional power. It was this feeling also which induced 
Congress to pass a subsequent act, giving to Mrs. 
Madison the honorary privilege of a copyright in for- 
eign countries. The woi'k is a record of the Debates 
in the congress of the convention during the years 
1782-1787. 

Congress also conferred the franking privilege upon 
Mrs. Madison, and voted her a seat upon the floor of 
the Senate. 

The last twelve years of Mrs. Madison's life were 
spent in Washington, where she mingled in the society 
of the young and happy, as well as the aged and re- 
cluse. Many reniend)er her dignified bearing, and 
gentle, kind mannei* in her old age, and it was consid- 
ered a pleasure to be a guest where she was to be 
present. On New Years and Fourth of July, she held 
public receptions, and tlie throng of visitors was equal 
to that which assembled at the President's house. 
She took up her residence in Washington in 1837, 
in the house in which she died. This house was 
built by President Madison in 1819; after her death 
it was purchased by Captain Wilkes and by him 
enlarged. Clark's unpublished reminiscences contains 
tlie foUowino; : — 

" Mrs. D. P. Madison, the venerable widow of 



154 DOROTHY p. MADISON. 

James Madison, ex-President of the Uuited States, 
died on tlie 12tli of July, 1849, at ber residence in 
Washington City, southeast corner of H street, North 
and Madison Place ; aged about 82 years. 

" Beloved by all who personally knew her, and uni- 
versally respected, this venerable lady closed her long 
and well-spent life with the calm resignation which 
goodness of heart, combined with piety, only can im- 
part. Her funeral took place on the 16th, from St. 
John's Episcopal Church. Her remains were deposited 
in the cemeteiy at Montpelier, Virginia, near the mon- 
ument erected over the grave of her illustrious hus- 
band. 



V. 

ELIZA K. MONROE. 

The era in wliicli Mrs. Monroe lived, was the most 
eventful in the histoiy of nations, and her record 
is of interest and value, in a twofold degree. The 
women who stamp the influence of their virtues on a 
time of public excitement and wonderful changes, 
bear in their natures strength of character worthy of 
emulation ; and they become the benefactors of suc- 
ceeding ages, as they were the blessings of theii* own. 
The memorials of such should be familiar to the chil- 
dren of America, ^vho under tlie genius of Republican 
institutions, are the inheritors of, and successors to, 
their fame and positions. No daughter of Columbia 
should be ignorant of the history and experiences of 
their national ancestors, whose lives were beautiful in 
their simplicity, and rich in varied experiences. 

The richest treasure our country possesses is the 
fame of her children ; and her noblest legacy to j)os- 
terity should be the annals of those, who by their tal- 
ents have adorned, and by their wisdom sustained, the 
pioneers of liberty in their first w^eak efforts. Of sucli 
a class was Mrs. Monroe, whose husband for half a 
century reaped the reward of his country's constancy, 
and filled in tliat period more important offices than 
any other man in the United States. 

Statesmen in this country are too often forced to 
give way to politicians, and patriots to demagogues. 



156 ELIZA K. MONROE. 

The perj^etual agitations of a Republic carry up on tlie 
flood those who in turn are swept down with the tide .; 
while in the commotion many are lost to history. 
But this is less the case with Viro-inia statesmen than 
with any other class of public men. Whatever may be 
said of the ingratitude of other States, the " Old 
Mother " has been true to her children, and the caprice 
and changeableness of younger commonwealths but 
renders her trust and confidence the more conspicuous. 
And if she has trusted implicitly the integrity of her 
offspring, she has been rewarded by the love and fidel- 
ity of the noblest public men of the nation. 

The inauguration of Washington at New York, in 
1789, was followed by the immediate assembling of 
Congress, and thither went Mr. Monroe as Senator 
from Virginia, accompanied by Mr. Jefferson, the 
newly-appointed Secretary of State. 

The ancient seat of the Dutch dynasty on this 
Continent was a place of much wealth ; and not the 
least of its possessions were the bright-eyed, rosy- 
cheeked descendants of the rich old Patroons, whose 
delight knew no bounds when their city was chosen 
as the capital. No less pleased were their fathers who, 
in their capacities as merchants and capitalists, hoj^ed 
to achieve new honors and increased wealth. 

The festivities which subsequently followed the in- 
auguration were attended by all the members of Con- 
gress, who, as strangei's of distinction, received the 
largest share of the young belles' attention. Promi- 
nent among these belles was Miss Eliza Kortright, 
the daughter of Lawrence Koi'tright, a former captain 



AN INSUFFICIENT IlECOED, 157 

in the Britisli army. After the peace of 1783, lie re* 
mained with his family in New York, where his chil- 
dren were reared and educated. Of this interesting 
family there were one son and four daughters, two ol 
whom, Mrs. Hileger and Mrs. Knox, were married, 
when Congress assembled in their adopted city. 

The time and place of Mrs. Monroe's marriage can- 
not be definitely ascertained, as no record has been 
retained by any of her survivors ; but it must have 
been during the year 1789, since Congress assembled 
there but one term, and it was during this session that 
Senator Monroe met her. Soon after their marriage 
they took up their abode in Philadelphia, whither the 
seat of the General Government had been removed. 
In this position he remained until 1794, when he was 
appointed from the Senate to be Envoy Extraordinary 
and Minister Plenipotentiary to France. Thus is shad- 
owed forth the five years of Mrs. Monroe's life suc- 
ceeding her marriage. Nothing more definite can be 
gathered. It is a matter of regret that no biographer 
of her day anticipated the needs of a coming genera- 
tion, and did not, with all the facts and incidents fresh 
in his mind, give an impartial account of the every-day 
existence of the woman whose memory appeals now for 
justice. She had her troubles and trials, her triumphs 
and pleasures, doubtless, for no station is exempt from 
the one, or bereft of the other. 

Sketches of women are too often fulsome panegyrics, 
alike unjust and disgusting, but such cannot be said of 
the admirers of Mrs. Monroe. Not a line was written of 
her during ber life, save a mention after her husband's 



158 ELIZA K. MONROE. 

election to the Presidency, nor has any history of his 
life been written from which to glean even a mention 
of her name. This is a remarkable fact, that in none 
of the public libraries of New York or Brooklyn, is 
there any history of a man who occupied the Presi- 
dential chair eight years, and whose record shoukl be 
the inheritance of his descendants. A brief sketch, 
written many years _ago, is all that could be found, 
and there is no mention of his wife in it. 

All the details of Mrs. Monroe's existence are lost, 
and nothing of interest remains. 

Misfortunes and sorrows, those blessings of the Di- 
vine Spii'it thi'ough whose agencies are developed every 
latent gift, are forgotten now, for the meagre incidents 
narrated contain no allusion to the inner life of one 
who for so many years counselled as wife and friend, 
and shed a ray of light on the pathway of Mr. Monroe, 

Some lives there are filled from the cradle to the 
gi-ave with all matei'ial gifts requisite for happiness. 
Some natures there are never called to suffer agony ; 
gentle, quiet characters, fragrantly blossoming 
through all the summer of their existence, and only 
leaving life when snows and wintry weather close the 
avenues of enjoyment. Such lives rarely attain for 
themselves great heights, or win an immortality, but 
gliding through the accustomed haunts of men receive 
their impressions from stronger natures and allow some 
master hand to influence and guide their lives. With 
this class of persons happiness is their only possible 
means of expansion. The entire formation of such 
characters requires absolute prosperity or they become 



KEPKESENT.S HER COUNTRYWOMEN AT ST. CLOUD. 159 

dwarfed. There is with them no rebound, no reaction 
in which is streugtli to loosen the inharmonious bonds 
or to dechi,re themselves free agents, accoimtable tc 
their own inner natures for any external erior. A wo* 
man of this mould rightly married is winged for a 
successful life ; discordantly mated, she leads an au- 
tomaton existence from which there is no deliverance. 
If such lives are in distinct contradistinction to those 
intense fibrous-nerved persons whose joy ofttimes is in 
the heart of pain, they have one plefising reflection, 
that if in their negative way they enjoy less, they evi- 
dently escape those shafts of agony which bury them- 
selves in high-wrought natures, and inspire them to 
deeds of greatness. 

Of gentle and winning manners was Mrs. Monroe, 
and possessed of a face upon which beauty was written 
in unmistakable lines. Tall and gracefully formed, 
polished and elegant in society, she was one fitted to re- 
present her countrywomen at the court of St. Cloud. 
Her position, as the wife of a wealthy Virginia Sena- 
tor, surrounded by luxury and prosperity, proud of 
her husband and of her country, was calculated to en- 
hance the pleasure of a trip to Europe, while the com- 
parative infrequeucy of a voyage across the Atlantic 
heightened the pleasure with which she received the 
announcement of his appointment. 

Young and ambitious, full of enthusiasm and ad- 
miration for the principles of a free government, Mr. 
Monroe left the shores of his native land, whose lib- 
erty he had so recently assisted in establishing. He 
had entered the service of his country as a cadet in a 



160 ELIZA K. MONllOE. 

coips uiitl(n' tlie conimaiul of tlie gallant General Mer- 
cer, of Virginia. Soon afterward hu was appointed a 
lieutenant, and joined the army at New York. Fol- 
lowing the fortunes of the " chief," he was with him at 
Trenton, Princeton, Brandywiue, Germanto>yn and 
•'Monmouth. Retiring from the staff of Lord Stirling, 
where he had served two campaigns, after being 
wounded in the shoulder at Trenton, he repaired to 
Virginia to raise a regiment. From various causes he 
failed in this undertaking, and did not return to the 
army but entered Mr. Jefferson's office as a student at 
law. A member of the Legislature, and at the age of 
twenty-four elected to the Continental Congress, from 
which he passed to the Congress of the United States, 
we find him from his earliest boyhood devoted to the 
land of his birth, and serving it in these various positions 
of honor and eminence. But glowing with youthful 
admiration for the Republic he had left behind, he was 
not careful to conceal his feelings in imperial France, 
and lience made himself unpopular with those in 
power. He was deemed too enthusiastically engaged 
in the feelings of revolutionaiy France to do justice to 
his own country, and he was recalled by Washington. 
In August, 1792, Lafayette was taken prisoner by 
the Austrians, and after being thrown like a criminal 
in tbe Prussian dungeon at Wesel on the Rhine, was 
transferred successively to Magdeburg, Glatz, Neisse 
and finally to Olmutz. Li this Austrian dungeon he 
was convinced by the rigor of his confinement and the 
brutal treatment of his captors that his fate was sealed. 
Down in his dark cell, ten paces deei>, where the raiu 



SYMPATHY FOK MADAME LAFAYETTE. 101 

fclirougli tlie loop-holes poured, and the sun did not 
shine, the young defender of American liberty lay 
chained, while the weary mouths dragged by, and no 
word of hope or certainty of death came from his wife 
and children left behind in Paris. Wasted by disease, 
deprived of light, aii', and decent food, — the loathsome 
dampness and tilth of his dungeon so reducing him 
that his hair fell from him entirely by the excess of 
his sutferings, his cruel tormentors cheered his gloom 
and oppression by no word or look of sympathy. 
Ameiica knew the fate of his loved ones, and while his 
estates were coniiscated, his wife in the prison of La 
Force, and his little children, tw^o of whom shared the 
confinement of their mother, awaiting the wrath of 
their ojipressors, the agents of the country whose once 
hopeless cause he had espoused, were actively employ- 
ed in behalf of their former friend. 

It is not to be wondered that Mrs. J\Ionroe shared 
the feeling entertained by her husband, or that her 
warmest womanly feelings were stirred by the recital 
of Madame Lafayette's w^oes. The Marquis de Lafayette 
was adored by Americans, and the indignities heaptsd 
upon his heroic wife could scarcely be borne by the 
Minister and his family, when they felt that the death 
of a martyr would be the result of her cruel and 2)ro- 
tracted confinement. The lofty position America had 
just assumed among the nations of the eai-th, and the 
respect engendered by her success, rendered her Min- 
isters in foreign counti'ies objects of special attention 
and regard. When Mr. Monroe decided to risk dis- 
pleasiu'e by sending his wife to see Madame Lafayette, 



162 ELIZA K. MOKROE. 

he appreciated the decided effect it would have for 
e:ood or evil. He well knew that eitlier it would meet 

CD 

with signal success and be of benefit to his unfortunate 
friend, or render her slight claim to clemency yet more 
desperate. Enlisted as his feelings were, he determin- 
ed to risk the die, and Mrs. Monroe was consulted in 
regard to the j)lan. To her husband's anxious queries, 
she replied calmly, and assured him of her ability to 
control and sustain herself. 

As the carriage of the American Minister, adorned 
with all the outward emblems of rank, halted before 
the entrance of the prison, the keeper advanced to 
kn.ow the object of the visit. Mrs. Monroe, with firm 
step and steady voice, alighted and made known her 
business, and to her surprise was conducted to the re- 
ception room, while the ofiicial retii'ed to make known 
her request. Her heart beat loudly as she alone lis- 
tened to the tread of the jailer as he closed the heavy 
door and passed down the long hall which separated 
the cells. After a lapse of time, which to one in her 
nervous state seemed an age, she heard the footsteps 
retui^ning, and soon the opening of the ponderous door 
discovered to her astonished view the presence of the 
emaciated prisoner, assisted by her guard. 

The emotion of the marchioness was touching in 
the extreme, and she sank at the feet of Mrs. Monroe, 
unable to articulate her joy. 

All day she had been expecting the summons to 
prepare for her execution, and when the silence of her 
cell was disturbed by the approach of the gendarmes, 
her last hope was fast departing. Instead of the cruel 



A VISIT THAT SAVES A LIFE. 163 

announcement, — the assurance that a visitor awaited 
her presence in the receiving-room of the prison, and 
on findino; in that visitor tlie American Ambassadress, 
the representative of her husband's adopted home, her 
long-pent feelings found relief in sobs. The reaction 
was sudden, and the shock more than her feeble framo^ 
could bear. 

The presence of the sentinels precluded all efforts 
at conversation, and both hesitated to peril the frail 
chance of life, or to abuse the unheard-of privilege of 
an interview. After a painful stay of short duration 
Mrs. Monroe rose to retire, assuring her friend in a 
voice audible to her listeners, for whom it was intend- 
ed, that she would call the following morning, and then 
hastened to relieve the anxiety of her husband. 

Madame Lafayette's long-delayed execution had been 
decided upon, and that very afternoon she was to have 
been beheaded, but the unexpected visit of the Minis- 
ter's wife altered the minds of the officials, and to the 
surprise of all, she was liljerated the next morning. 

The prestige of the young Repul)lic was appreciated 
by the French in power, and they dared not, from 
motives of self-interest, sacrifice a lady in whom the 
American Minister was so directly interested. They 
had not forgotten with what admiration the peoj^le of 
the United States looked upon her Lusband, the Mar- 
quis de Lafayette. 

Deaf to all the entreaties of her friends, and firm 
in her determination to carry immediate consolation to 
the dungeon of her persecuted husband, Madame 
Lafayette sent her eldest son, George Washington, to 



1G4 ELIZA K. MONROE. 

Americca for safety, to the care of General Wasliington, 
and she then k^ft Paris accompanied by her two 
daughters in disguise, and under the protection of 
American passports. 

Passing under tlie name of Mrs. Motier, she landed 
at Altona on the ninth of September, 1*795, and after 
repeated difficulties eventually reached the prison, 
where she was notified that if she passed its threshold, 
she must remain. 

The heroic woman -signed her consent and deter- 
mination, " to share his captivity in all its details," be- 
ing " fully distermined never again to expose herself 
to the horrors of another separation." 

The two most conspicuous men of their age, George 
Washington and Napoleon Bonaparte, effected by tlieir 
cooperation the release of Lafayette and liis deeply- 
injured family, — the former after an imprisonment of 
more than five years, the latter, a period of twenty- two 
months. 

Mr. Monroe was recalled, and after his return to 
America, he published a justification of his conduct 
while abroad; the pamphlet settled nothing, but justi- 
fied both parties in tlie views which they had taken. 

Thus was Mrs. Monroe's short stay in Europe 
brought to a termination. In many ways it had 
been pleasant and beneficial, and, although she re- 
gretted her husband's unfortunate recall, she rather 
joyed in ihe conduct which had produced this result. 
Unacquainted with diplomacy and the line of action 
necessary between nations, she allowed her own feel- 
ings to decide her movements, and honored the samp 



HUMANE IF NOT DIPLOMATIC. 165 

spirit in her linsband. The privilege of being a succor 
and means of relief to Madame Lafayette satisfied, lier 
more than ministerial honors, and she would rather 
have performed, this deed prompted by Mr. Monroe's 
advice than remained the wife of the Ambassador. 

Paris then, as now, though in a less degree, was 
the centre of all that was to be enjoyed, and Mrs. 
Monroe did not regret her stay there, though so ab- 
ruptly ended. This first trip over the tedious waters 
was fraught with interest and improvement to both. 
New fields of thought were explored by them, and the 
expanse of their souls, under a sense of freedom and 
change, gained for their ultimate happiness more than 
mere worldly honors could give or take away. 

Thus in the devious windins^s of life we are con- 
stautly reminded that after the lesson is the application, 
and experience pronounces both, though hard to bear, 
necessary for ultimate progression. 

Mrs. Monroe returaed to New York with her 
husband, who was looked upon as a disgraced minister, 
and being the first who had been so designated, was 
viewed by his friends with deep sympathy. For a time 
the society of her family and friends soothed the sensi- 
tive feelings of Mrs. Monroe, but she soon afterwards 
accompanied her husband to Virginia, where he was 
at oDce chosen governor. 

This evidence of affection gladdened the hearts of 
both recipients, and during the constitutional term of 
three years, through which he served, Mrs. Monroe 
added to the dignity and success of his official life by 
her uniform and acceptable course. The capital of 



IGO ELIZA K. M0NK0J3. 

the State at that time was Williamsburg, a place of 
refined hospitality and sociability, and here the true 
beauty of the Governor's wife was discovered under 
the most delicate circumstances, as well as during the 
most pleasing occasions. 

After President Jefferson came into power, he ap- 
pointed Mr. Monroe Envoy Extraordinary to the 
Court of France, to act with Mr. Livingston in nego- 
tiating for the purchase of Louisiana. As soon as he 
arrived on the French soil, Mr. Livingston wrote as fol- 
lows to him : — 

Paris, 10th of April, 1803. 

Dear Sir : — I congratulate you on your safe ar- 
rival. We have long and anxiously wished for you. 
God grant that your mission may answer your and 
the public expectation. War may do something for 
us ; notliing else would. I have paved the way for 
you, and if you could add to my memoirs an assurance 
that we were now in possession of New Orleans, we 
should do well. But I detain Mr. Beutalon, who is im- 
patient to fly to the arms of his wife. I have apprized 
the minister of your arrival, and told him you would 
be here on Tuesday or Wednesday. Present my com- 
pliments and Mrs. Livingston's to Mrs. Monroe, and 
believe me, dear sir, your friend and humble servant, 

Robert R. Livingston. 

After the business of the treaty was arranged, Mr. 
Monroe was sent as Minister to London, to succeed Mr. 
King, who wished to return home. From there he 



DOMESTIC LIFE AT OAK HILL. 107 

was ordered to Spain, which country he \dsited by 
way of Paris. Mrs. Monroe accompauied him in all 
his wanderings, and returned with him to England 
soon after the death of Mr. Pitt. 

Mr. Monroe was minister to England when the at- 
tack upon the frigate Chesapeake placed the two coun- 
tries already irritated, in a hostile attitude, and finding 
his position at the St. James anything but pleasaut, he 
returned to this country. Thus did Mrs. Monroe spend 
almost ten years in Europe, returning only when the 
country was plunging again into a second war with the 
mother land. She gladly sought retirement at Oak 
Hill, her husband's Virginia home, and the following 
years passed in the enjoyment of the serene pleasures 
of country life. Mr. Monroe, engaged during the day 
in reading and taking the general supervision of his 
plantation, left her the care of their two daughters, 
and the household duties, which in a Virginia home 
were always arduous. 

But this quiet home life was not destined to last, 
and the husband and father resumed the duties of a 
politician, and was elected to the Legislature. In a 
few months he was again chosen Governor of the old 
commonwealth, and continued to discharge the duties 
of that office until chosen Secretary of State by Presi- 
dent Madison. 

When the war of 1812 was declared, Mrs. Monroe 
was living in Washington City, dispensing the duties 
of a minister's wife and enjoying the society of her 
two daughters. 

As the strife came nearer home and the capital 



1(>8 ELIZA K. iAIONKOK. 

was tlireatened, she returned to Oak Hill, and 
there remained until peace was finally proclaimed. 
Anxious and uneasy about her husband, who was ever 
beside the President, she yet felt that her place was at 
her own home, that he might feel assured of the safety 
of herself and children. 

In 1817, Mr. Monroe became President of the 
United States and removed his family to the White 
House, where they continued to reside during both 
terms of his administration. Mrs. Monroe was spoken 
of at this time by the leading paper of the day as 
follows : — 

"Mrs. Monroe is an elegant, accomplished woman. 
She possesses a charming mind and dignity of man- 
ners which peculiarly tit her for her elevated station. 
Her retired domestic habits will be much annoyed by 
what is here called society, if she does not change the 
etiquette (if it may be called so), established by Mrs. 
Washington, Adams, and Madison, a routine which her 
feeble constitution will not permit her to encounter. 
To go through it, she must become a perfect slave to 
the sacrifice of her health. The secretaries, senators, 
foreign ministers, consuls, auditors, accountants, officers 
of the navy and army of every grade, farmers, mer- 
chants, parsons, priests, lawyers, judges, auctioneers 
and nothingarians — all Avith their wives and some with 
their gawky offspring, crownl to the President's house 
every Wednesday evening; some in shoes, most in 
boots, and many in spurs; some snuffing, others chew- 
ing and many longing for their cigars and whiskey- 
punch left at home. Some with powdered heads, 



THE WHITE HOUSE KEBUILT. 109 

otliers frizzled and oiled, with some whose heads a 
comb has never touched, half hid by dirty collars, 
reaching far above their ears as stiff as paste-board/' . 

And an English writer comments in a similar strain: 

" Mrs. Monroe is a lady of retired and domestic 
habits, not ungraceful and apparently very amiable. 

" Having resided in Europe with her husband, she 
has acquired some of its manners and a good deal of 
its polish. She receives company, but returns no 
visits ; she seems more attached to the silence and 
peace of obscurity, than the bustle, confusion and glare 
of public assemblies. But to preserve a custom estab- 
lished by her predecessor, a lady it is said, of great 
elegance of manners and much dignity of deportment, 
she gives what are termed ' drawing rooms' for the pur- 
pose of gratifying the wishes and curiosity of such 
strangers as may please to visit her and the President. 

" These drawing rooms are conducted on principles 
of republican simplicity, and are widely different from 
the magnificence and splendor of the English levees. 
They appeared to me, however, very unpleasant ; the 
rooms are so crowded, the hum of voices so loud, and 
the motion of the company so incessant, that the possi- 
bility of continuing a conversation on any subject is 
wholly precluded, and you are jostled every instant 
without the power of enjoying the ' feast of reason,'' 
or even the pleasure of the senses." 

The White House had been partly rebuilt when 
Mr. Monroe became President, but it possessed but few 
comforts and no elegance. The furniture was not of 
the kind nor quality befitting the house of the Chief 



170 ELIZA K. MONROE. 

Magistrate, and the debris of tlie former ill-fated 
building lay in heaps about the mansion. The country 
being once more at peace, Congress ordered Consul 
Lee, then residing at Paris, to purchase a silver service 
of plat(\ which was forwarded at once, and which has 
continued in use until replaced by a niore modern and 
expensive set in March, '69. 

About the same time was bought for the East Room 
the furniture which now adorns that famous apartment. 
When the purchase was made in Paris, each article 
was surmounted by the royal crown of Louis 
XVIII. Tills ornament of gilt was removed, and the 
American Eagle substituted before it was sent from 
France. To the thoughtful mind this furniture is of 
interest in so far as it recalls the dead who have long 
Bince crumbled back to dust, yet, whose memory is 
associated with the chairs and ottomans still remaininsr 
where they were placed years ago. True, they have 
been often repaired, but the original eagles are as bright 
as when they left the shores of tlie Empire, to grace 
the house of the Republic. 

Mrs. Monroe mingled but little in the society of 
Washington, and always secluded herself from the ob- 
servation of the throno". Her health was frail during: 
the latter years of her life in the White House, and she 
became more than ever a recluse. 

In a recent publication there is a copy of an old 
letter written by Mr. Cooper, in which he thus men- 
tions a dinner and a reception at the White House 
during Mr. Monroe's time. 

^' On this occjision we were honored with the pres- 



A DINNER AND RECEPTION. l7l 

ence of Mi*s. ^loiiroe, and two or throe of her female 
relatives. Crossing the hall we were admitted to a 
drawing-room, in which most of the company were 
already assembled. The lioui' was six. By far the 
greater part of the guests were men, and perhaps two- 
thirds were members of Congress. 

" There was great gravity of mien in most of the 
company, and neither any very marked exhibition, nor 
any positively striking want, of grace of manner. The 
conversation was commonplace, and a little sombre, 
though two or three men of the world got around the 
ladies, where the battle of words was maintained with 
sufficient spirit. ****** Xo me the enter- 
tainment had rather a cold than a formal air. When 
dinner was' announced, the oldest Senator present 
(there were two, and seniority of service is meant) 
took Mrs. Monroe and led her to the table. The rest 
of the party followed without much order. The 
President took a lady, as usual, and preceded the rest 
of the guests. 

^ * * * * ^ 

"The dining-room was in better taste than is com- 
mon here, being quite simple and but little furnished. 
The table was large and rather handsome. The service 
was in china, as is uniformly the case, plate being ex- 
ceedingly rare, if at all used. There was, however, a 
rich jylateau, and a great abundance of the smaller 
articles of table plate. The cloth, napkins, &c., tfec, 
were fine and beautiful. 

'•The dinner was served in the French style, a little 
Americanized. The dishes were handed around, though 



172 ELIZA K. MONROE. 

some of tlie guests, appearing to prefer their own cus- 
toms, coolly helped themselves to what they found at 
hand. 

"Of attendants there were a good many. They 
were neatly dressed, out of livery, and sufficient. To 
conclude, the whole entertainment might have passed 
for a better sort of European dinner-party, at which 
the guests were too numerous for general or very 
agreeable discourse, and some of them too new to be 
entirely at their ease. 

" Mrs. Monroe arose, at the end of the dessert, and 
withdrew, attended by two or three of the most gal- 
lant of the company. 

" No sooner was his wife's back turned than the 
President reseated himself, inviting his guests to imi- 
tate the action. After allowing his guests sufficient 
time to renew, in a few glasses, the recollections of 
similar enjoyments of their own, he arose himself, giv- 
ing the hint to his company, that it was time to rejom 
the ladies. 

"In the drawing-room coffee was served, and every 
one left the house before nine." 

****** 

" On the succeeding Wednesday, Mrs. Monroe open- 
ed her doors to all the world. No invitation was neces- 
sary, it being the usage for the wife of the President 
to receive company once a fortnight during the session, 
without distinction of persons. We reached the 
White House at nine. The court (or rather the 
grounds) was filled with carriages, and the company 
was arriving in great numbers. On this occasion, two 



HAISTD-SHAKINGS. 173 

or three additional drawing-rooms were opened, though 
the frugality of Congress has prevented them from 
finishing the principal reception-room of the building. 
I will acknowledge the same sort of surprise I felt at 
the Castle Garden fete, at finding the assemblage so 
respectable in air, dress, and deportment. The evening 
at the White House, or drawing-room, as it is some- 
times pleasantly called, is, in fact, a collection of all 
classes of people who choose to go to the trouble and 
expense of appearing in dresses suited to an ordinary 
evening party. I am not sure that even dress is much 
regarded, for I certainly saw a good many there in 
boots. The females were all neatly and properly 
attired, though few were ornamented with jewelry. 
Of course, the poor and laboring classes of the com- 
munity would find little or no pleasure in such a scene. 
The infamous, if known, would not be admitted, for it 
is a peculiar consequence of the high tone of morals in 
this country, that grave and notorious offenders rarely 
presume to violate the public feeling by invading 
society. 

" Squeezing through the crowd, we achieved a pas- 
sage to a part of the room where Mrs. Monroe was 
standing, surrounded by a bevy of female friends. 
After making our bow here, we sought the President. 
The latter had posted himself at the top of the 
room, where he remained most of the evening, shaking 
hands with all who approached. Near him stood all 
the secretaries, and a great number of the most dis- 



174 ELIZA K. MONROE. 

tinguished men of the nation. Individuals of import- 
ance from all parts of the Union were also here, and 
were employed in the manner usual to such scenes. 
Besides these, one meets here a great variety of people 
in other conditions of life. I have known a cartman 
to leave his horse in the street and go into the recep- 
tion-room to shake hands with the President. He 
offended the good taste of all present, because it was 
not thought decent that a laborer should come in a 
dirty dress on such an occasion ; but while he made a 
trifling mistak(3 in this particular, he proved how well 
he understood the difference between government and 
society. He knew the levee was a sort of homage paid 
to political equality in the person of the First Magis- 
trate, but he would not have presumed to enter the 
house of the same person as a private individual, 
without being invited, or without a reasonable excuse 
in the way of business.''^ 

After Mr. Monroe retired fi'om office, he returned 
to his home in Loudon County, and engaged with 
Messrs. Jefferson and Madison in establishing the 
University of Virginia. This occupation formed a 
pleasant pastime to him, and was of lasting benefit to 
his beloved State. Afterward, he was chosen Presi- 
dent of the Virginia Convention to amend the Con- 
stitution of his native State. Meanwhile Mrs. Monroe 
found womanly employment for hands and heart in 
caring for those dependent upon her bounty, and en- 
tertaining the various throngs who delighted to do 
honor to the three ex- Presidents of the United States, 
and sons of the old commonwealth. 



JULY 4, 1831. 175 

Her two daughters were married and gone from 
home, the eldest, Eliza, the wife of Judge Hay, of 
Virginia, and Maria, wedded to her first cousin Samuel 
L. Gouvcrneur, of New York.* She was now alone and 
becoming aged, and was pleasing herself with the de- 
lusion that after so many years of public life, her hus- 
band would spend the evening of his days with her, 
around the fireside. But he felt as if he could never 
cease to serve Virginia. Long after his duty to his 
country had been performed and she had dismissed 
him with plaudits and laurel wreaths, he struggled 
under accumulated infirmities and trials, and to the 
last hearkened to the voice of his State. The last 
public position he held was a magistracy in the county 
of Loudon, where he resided, and was as attentive and 
devoted to the performance of every duty as when 
holding the highest office in the gift of the people. 

Mrs. Monroe died suddenly in 1830, and thus was 
ended the old home-life. Oak Hill was closed, and the 
crushed husband sought refuge from loneliness in the 
home of his youngest daughter, whose devoted aifec- 
tion soothed his pathway to the grave. 

Less than a year after Mrs. Monroe's death her 
husband was preparing to join her in her spirit-home. 
On the 4th of July, 1831, the anniversary of Ameri- 
can Independence, just five years after his predecessors 
had quitted this scene of their labor and their tri- 
umph, he, too, joined them. 

" There is a (juiet, beautiful cemetery on the north 

* The latter was married in the Green Room in the White House 
(March, 1820), at the age of seventeen. 



176 ELIZA K. MONROE. 

side of Second street, in tliis city (New York) between 
First and Second Avenues, separated from the side- 
walk by a tall iron fence, j)laced upon a granite foun- 
dation. 

The shrubbery is always clean and vigorous ; the 
grass is always the greenest, and the walks are scru- 
pulously neat. There are many tasteful and appropri- 
ate monuments to the dead that sleep within this beau- 
tiful inclosure ; but to the memory of the most famous 
of its dumb inhabitants there is no mar])le shaft, no 
obelisk, not even a head-stone, erected. But upon a 
simple slab of marble that lies flat, some two feet 
square, upon the earth, and is almost covered by grass, 
is the following inscription : 

JAMES MONROE, 

ROBERT TILLOTSON, 

vault No. 147. 

There is nothing to indicate that the James Mon- 
roe mentioned is the Monroe who was in the battle 
of White Plains, and received a ball in the shoulder at 
the attack on Trenton, who fought by the side of La- 
fayette at Brandywine, who was Minister to France in 
1*794, and afterward to England ; who was Secretary 
of State in 1811, and for two full terms President of 
these United States. Yet such is the fact, and that 
weather-stained slab of marble, two feet square, is all 
the monument that Ex-President Monroe has. It is a 
curious neglect that leaves the precious dust of one of 
the pvrest patriots that our country has been blest 



THE PKESIDENt's GRAVE. '177 

with, to rest in such obscurity. Thousands pass every 
day by the spot admiring the well-kept grounds, paus- 
ing for the fragrance of the flowering shrubs, listening 
to the songs of the birds that find this oasis in the 
citv's desert, but never dreamino; that the author of 
the Monroe Doctrine, the fourth President of the Uni- 
ted States, lies within a few feet of them. 

Monuments to men of half his intellectual stature, 
and a tithe- of his industry and goodness of heart, are 
going up all over the land. Shall he who ^vas re- 
elected to the Presidency by a vote unanimous with a 
single exception, and who never disgraced his position 
have no more than this ? As Mr. Monroe was a Vir- 
ginian, it is the supposition of most people that he 
died and was buried within the Old Dominion, but 
this is an error. 

Mr. Monroe, in his last days, resided with Samuel 
Gouverneur, late postmaster of this city (New York) 
who married his daughter ; their residence was on the 
corner of Prince and Elm Streets. 

The venerable Dr. Francis tells us that he often 
met Mr. Monroe walking out when the weather was 
fine, and that on these occasions he was the object of 
the most affectionate attentions. He has often met 
him making purchases for the family, at the Centre 
Market, where all the stallmen knew and honored him. 

He was tall and spare, very modest in his bearing, 
dignified and gentlemanly. In his address, he was 
hesitating and diffident, and polite to the poorest and 
humblest as to any. He was one of the most indus- 
trious of men. a hard student, and his cares left their 



178 ELIZA K. MONROE. 

marks on liis face. The wound that he received afc 
Trenton was felt for many years afterward — indeed, 
throughout all his life he occasionally suffered from it. 

His last illness was a long and tedious one. His 
attendant was his son-in-law's family physician, Dr. 
Berger. He expired at 10-^ o'clock on the morning of 
the 4th of July, 1831. 

His funeral was a very im]30sing one — the largest 
that at that time had ever been seen in New York. 
The military, under Gen, Jaqob Morton, Grand 
Marshal, filled Broadway from Prince to Broad Street, 
through which it passed to the cemetery. The day was 
fine, and the signs of mourning were generally adopted 
by our citizens. 

The vault in which his dust still lies, is on the east 
side of the cemetery, just to the right of the main walk 
as you look in from the entrance. The passer-by will 
note a small pole, on which a dove-house is perched. 
Within a yard of that pole is the sacred spot.* 

Many years afterward, by order of the Virginia 
Legislature, the remains of Ex-President Monroe were 
removed to Bichmond, and a monument befitting his 
glorious past deeds reared above him. 

The property. of Oak Hill is now owned by Mr. 
Fairfax, and with it one thousand acres of land. Three 
hundred acres are comprised in the McGowan estate. 

The second daughter of President Monroe, Mrs. 

Maria Gouverneur, died in 1850 at Oak Hill, where she 

was buried by the side of her mother. There are at 

hi?= time but few descendants of Mrs. Monroe ; two 

*Fruiii ail old newspaper printed more tlmn thirty years ago. 



A LIFE DEVOTED TO FAMILY. l79 

grandsons and several great-grandcliildren, comprise 

the number now living. 

-X- * * * * * 

The tale is quickly told, the history soon written 
of such a life as was Mrs. Monroe's. Little of interest 
or variety is there connected with one whose identity 
was so completely merged in her husband's existence. 
She has passed on, leaving only here and there a link 
to form a chain of events, by which to weave the 
barest outlines. 

At this short remove from her day, we are discour- 
aged in every effort to obtain facts and incidents. She 
lived in the bosom of her small family, serenely happy 
in her retirement, and the memory of so quiet an exis- 
tence is swallowed up in the ever- varying changes of 
time. 



VI. 

LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. 

It was the happy fortune of Mrs. Adams to be the 
occupant of the " White House" when Lafayette visited 
the United States, and at the request of the President 
he spent the last weeks of his stay at the Executive 
Mansion, and from there on the 7th of September, 
1825, bade an iiftecting farewell to the land of his 
adoption. As the last sentence of this farewell ad- 
dress was pronounced, Lafayette advanced and took 
President Adams in his arms, while tears poured down 
his venerable cheeks. Returning a few paces, he was 
overcome by his feelings, and again returned and fall- 
ing on the neck of Mr. Adams, exclaimed in broken 
accents, " God bless you." The sighs and tears of the 
many assembled, bore testimony to the affecting solem- 
nity of the scene. Having recovered his self-posses- 
sion, the General stretched out his hands, and was in a 
moment surrounded by the greetings of the whole as- 
sembly, who pressed upon him, each eager to seize, per- 
haps for the last time, tliat beloved hand which was 
opened so freely for our aid when aid was so precious, 
and which grasped with firirr and undeviating hold the 
Bteel which so bravely helped to achieve our deliver- 
ance. The expression which now bCvamed from the 
face of this exalted man was of the finest and most 
touching kind. The her.) was lost in the father and 
the friend. Dignity melted into subdued affection, and 



VISIT OF LAFAYETTE. 181 

the friend of Washington seemed to linger with a 
mournful delight among the sons of his adopted 
country. 

A considerable period was then occupied in con* 
versing with various individuals, while refreshments 
were presented to the company. The moment of de- 
parture at length arrived ; and having once more 
pressed the hand of Mr. Adams, he entered the ba- 
rouche, accompanied by the Secretaries of State, of 
the Treasury, and of the Navy, and passed from the 
cajDital of the Union. 

The whole scene — the peals of artillery, the sounds 
of numerous military bands, the presence of the vast 
concourse of people, and the occasion that assembled 
them, produced emotions not easily described, but 
which every American heart can readily conceive. 

Mrs. Adams was the sixth in the succession of oc- 
cupants of the Executive Mansion, and with her closed 
the list of the ladies of the Kevolution. A new gen- 
eration had sprung up in the forty-nine years of Inde- 
pendence, and after her retirement, younger aspirants 
claimed the honors. Born in the city of London on 
the 12th of February, 1775, she received advantages 
superior to those enjoyed by most of the ladies of 
America. Her father, Mr. Johnson of Maryland, al- 
though living at the outbreak of the war, in England, 
was ever a patriotic American, and soon after hostili- 
ties commenced, removed with his family to Nantes, in 
France. ' ' There he received from the Federal Congress 
an appointment as Commissioner to examine the ac- 
counts of all the American functionaries then entrust- 



182 LOUISA CATIIEIIINE ADAMS. 

ed witli the public money of the United States, in Eu- 
rope ; in the ex(!rcise of the duties of whicli he con* 
tinned until the peace of 1782. Our National Inde- 
pendence having then been recognized, he returned to 
London, where he continued to reside, and where he 
acted a-5 consular aLcent for the United States until hia 
final return in 1797, to his native soil."" 

It was fortunate lor Mrs. Adams that her husband 
was a strong, intellectual nature ; he both satisfied and 
sustained her, and rendered livv sojoui'n on earth con- 
tented and agreeable. In her father's house in Lon- 
don he first saw her, in 1794, and on the 2Gth of July, 
1797, they were married at the church of All-Hallows. 
Soon afterward his fath(U' became President, and he 
was transferred to Berlin, where he repaired with his 
wife as a bride, to play her ])art in the higher circles 
of social and political life. It need scarcely be added 
that she proved perfectly competent to this ; and that 
during four years, which comprised the period of her 
stay at that court, notwithstanding almost continual 
ill-health, she succeeded in making friends and coucili' 
atiug a degree of good will, the recollection of which 
is, even at this distance of time, believed to be among 
the most agreeable of the associations with her varied 
life. In 1801, after the birth of her eldest child, she 
embarked with Mr. Adams on his return to the United 
States. Not to Maryland, the home of her childhood, 
but, a stranger to their habits and manners, she went 
among the New England people, and settled with her 
liusband in Boston. Here she determined to be satis* 
fied and live with a people whom in feeling she was not 



MINISTER TO RUSSIA. 183 

unlike, but scarcely was she beginning to feel at liome 
wlien Mr. Adams was elected Senator, and she re- 
moved with him to Washington. A sister was already 
established there, and she met once more the members 
of her own family, where to her the winter months 
passed pleasantly away. Each summer she i-eturued 
to Boston, and thus alternating between there and 
Wiishingtou in winter, she passed the pleasant years of 
Jefferson's term. To many, the capital was an out of 
the way place, and not always pleasant to Congress- 
men's wives who left the gayeties of larger cities to be 
detained six or eight months ; but Mrs. Adams was 
peculiarly fortunate in her position, having around her 
near and dear relations from whom she had been sepa- 
rated many years. It became home to her, and to a 
Southerner, the climate was more congenial than the 
regions of her husband's birthplace. 

Mr. Adams, called by President Madison to embark 
for liussia as its iirst accredited minister, Mrs. Adams 
determined to go, even at the cost of leaving her two 
ekh'st children with their grandparents, and taking 
with her a third, not yet two years old. They sailed 
from Boston early in August, and after a long and 
somewhat hazardous passage arrived in St. Petersburg 
toward the close of October. 

What voyages those must have been, when nearly 
three months was consumed in getting from one coun- 
try to another ; when weary weeks of summer merged 
into winter ere the l^arrier between the old and 
the new world could be passed. Yet how often 
had members of that family braved dangers un- 



IS-i LOUISA CATHEKINE ADAMS. 

known to perform some dnty in tlie otlier world. Far 
back into the past, tlieir Puritan ancestors had found ? 
refuo-e on " wild 'New Eno-laud's shoi'e," and in that 
interval, the waters of the sea had wafted the children 
of the third and fourth generations over its crested 
waves, to ask for the heritage their forefathers claimed 
' — liberty of conscience and actions, and freedom to 
wo]'sliip God. 

Years before, a brave, strong woman had, with 
streaming eyes, seen the form of her eldest boy start 
over the same track he was now treading, and she had 
gone back to her lonely home to suffer. Now, through 
its well-known and treacherous path, that son, grown 
to man's estate, with children of his own left behind, 
wends his tedious way, to bear to the halls of remotest 
nations the wishes and intentions of his young country. 

His wife, preferring an uncertain exile in a foreign 
country to a separation from her husband, suffered 
extremest anguish as she thought of her weeping chil- 
dren, for the first time separated from her. She felt 
the great distance and nncertain prospects of hearing 
fi-om them, not less keenly than she did the length of 
time which might elapse ere she again would tread the 
shores of her native land. And the bleak climate to 
which she was hastening in no wise tended to make 
her cheerful ; nor did the fact that Mr. Adams was the 
first Minister, allay her anxious sadness. Never, per- 
haps, in the history of the world, were such scenes 
being enacted as now. Europe was literally a battle- 
field, and Napoleon, the scourge of the continent, waa 
ruling, by the mighty force of his great skill, the de» 



NAPOLEON, THE " MAN OF DESTINY." 185 

tinies of the old world. Shut up in St. Petersburg, 
Mrs. Adams gathered rumors of the progress of that 
" man of destiny," and listened for his knock even at 
the gates of the imperial capital. 

During the six years of her stay in Kussia, what 
wondrous things transpired ! What intense interest 
marked the era, we, of comparative quiet, can scarcely 
conceive. Death took from her an infant, born whilst 
there, and the twofold affliction of public and private 
trouble weighed upon her. 

" Mr. Adams lived there, poor, studious, ambitious, 
and secluded, on the narrow basis of the parchment 
of his commission, respected for learning and talents, 
but little given to the costly entertainments of an 
opulent and ostentatious court circle. But the extra- 
ordinary mission could afford and was entitled to more 
expensive circulation in the splendid palaces of a magni- 
ficent city, inhabited by the owners of thousands of 
serfs, and some of them of Ural Mountains containing 
mines of gold. Living frugally, withdrawn from all 
but indispensable parade, Mr. Adams laid the basis 
of a modest competency for his return to America, 
whose official acquisition American, republican parsi- 
mony induces, if not justifies." 

The war between England and America broke out 
in the mean time, and communication was almost entire- 
ly cut off. British ships cruised about our ports to 
capture peaceful vessels, and thundered their cannon 
at the capital of the country. While Mrs. Adams grew 
tired and weary of her cheerless abode in that far, 
northern climate, British troops were busy devasta^ 



18G LOUISA CATHEKINE ADAMS. 

ting tlie country round about her old Lome, .and burn 
ing the mansion which Liter in life she was to occupy. 
Comj^letely cut off from all that made life dear, Mr. 
Adams hoped for some opportunity to be recalled, and 
restore his divided family to each other. Emperor 
Alexander unconsciously prepared the way for their 
return by proposing to be mediator for England and the 
United States. In consequence of this offer, the Commis- 
sioners repaired to St. Petersburg accompanied by Mr. 
Payne Todd, the step-son of President Madison, whose 
simple position in America was exaggerated by Euro- 
pean mistake to princely position. "Architecture, 
luxury, and comfort combined their attractions in 
palaces warmed by double windows and heated air- 
flues to the temperature of delightful summer weather, 
while the cold without was intense and destructive. 
Costumes of oriental richness, precious ornaments, fure 
of excessive price, and labor so low that large retinue 
and costly equipages are the least expensive outlays of 
noble households. The most delicious fruits from hot- 
houses, fjir-fetched game of the mildest flavor, tea by 
land carriage in caravans, transported five thousand 
miles from China, incomparably better and much dearer 
than the costly sea-born and sea-sweated beverage so 
much sought in America and England. The purest 
coffee of Mocha, wines of every wine-growing region 
are the common fare of the entertainments of Kussian 
nobles of countless riches and continual fetes, where 
much more numerous assemblies than elsewhere meet 
in the freedom of social enjoyments to counteract the 
risrors of climate, and from the terrible severities of 



AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE AT STAKE. 187 

despotic government, seek that solace by wliicTi almost 
every moi'tal privation is somehow compensated. The 
younger members of the American mission found in 
such enjoyments compensation for its political failurr, 
while their seniors were treated with general and im 
perial attention." Their coming was a source of pleas- 
ure to Mrs. Adams, whose time had been spent so 
quietly, and it was her hope to return with them ; but 
while the commissioners enjoyed themselves with the 
sights of the Russian capital, great changes were tak- 
ing place on the Continent, and they were unaware 
how radical they wei-e. The return ship to the United 
States brought the news to Boston that Napoleon was 
banished to Elba, Louis the XVIII. propped on the 
throne of his ancestors by foreign armies, and England 
was at the zenith of her power and greatness. Never 
were the prospects of republican America so low since 
its independence, and the heai'ts of those patriots 
trembled when they thought of the future. The lius- 
sian mediation failed, but the commissioners afterward 
met at Ghent, where delays succeeded each other un- 
til on Christmas eve, Saturday, 24th December, 1814, 
the treaty was signed. It was the desire of Mr. and 
Mrs. Adams to have returned home this .winter, but 
the failure of the commissioners at St. Petersburg ne- 
cessitated the presence of Mr. Adnms at Ghent, and it 
was thought best she should remain in Russia. The 
state of Europe, rocking and unsettled, was con- 
sidered another argument in favor of her remaining, 
and consequently Mr. Adams set out without her. 
Alone in that place where she had lived five 



188 LOUISA CATIIEIIINE ADAMS. 

years, where slie had buried one child, and where she 
hoped her husband would soon rejoin her, she passed 
the sixth winter, and wished only for the spiing 
to come to release hei'self and son from their ex- 
ile. How her heart must have yearned, in days 
short only because the darkness was so long, 
for her little ones over the wide Atlantic, and 
"with what zeal must she have prepared for that 
homeward-bound trip, so near in anticipation, yet in 
reality so far off. But her trial was in proportion to 
her strength, and if she did not go home, her children 
came to her afterward.* Spring at last came, on the 
almanac at least, if not in the gorgeous beauty it was 
wont to appear in her far-oif southern home, and she 
was advised to travel by land to rejoin. her husband 
at Paris, whither he had gone from Ghent. The diffi- 
culties and dangers of a land route through the late 
theatre of a furious war, had no influence to bear upon 
her determined idea to go, and braving solitary jour- 
neys, rogues, and dangers of every conceivable kind, 
set on with her child to travel to France. Hers must 
have been an indomitable spirit, else the lonely days 
of constant motion through villages and wild, uncul- 
tivated countries, where every inanimate thing bore 
traces of grim-visaged war, would have convinced her 



* Mrs. Adams had four children, three sons and a daughter. 
1. George Wasliington Adams, born in Berlin, 12th April, 1801. 2. John 
Adams, born in Boston, 4th July, 1803. 3. Charles Francis Adams, born 
in Boston, August 18th, 1807. 4. Louisa Catharine Adams, born in St. 
Petersburg, August 12th, 1811, and died there the next year. 



FIVE years' exile. 189 

of the risk she was running. With the passports of 
the Russian government, and the strong recommenda- 
tion of being the American ministers wife, she bade 
adieu to all apprehensions and risked all to only get 
nearer home and children. " In such circumstances, 
to be fastened in a snow-drift with night coming on, 
and to be forced to rouse the peasants of the surround- 
ing country to dig them out, which happened in Cour- 
land, was no slight matter. But it was of little signifi- 
cance compared to the complicated anxieties incident 
to the listening, at every stopping-place, to the tales 
of robbery and murder just committed on the pro- 
posed route, so perpetually repeated at that time to 
the traveller ; and to the warnings given by apparently 
friendly persons of the character of her own servants, 
corroborated by the loss of several articles of value, 
and, most of all, to the observation of the restless con- 
tention between jarring political passions under which 
tlie whole continent of Europe was heaving until it 
l)urst forth at the return of Napoleon from Elba. 
Hardly a day passed that did not require of Mrs. 
Adams some presence of mind to avoid becoming im- 
plicated in the consequences of party fury. For even 
the slight symbol of a polish cap on the head of her 
servant came near making food for popular quarrel." 

On her way she heard of Napoleon's return from 
Elba, heard that a little brig and three transports had 
borne back to France the nation's idol. All along the 
loute she witnessed the effect of the most marvellous 
act of Napoleon's life, "and yet," adds Abbott, "there 
was nothing in it rash or inconsiderate. He was driven to 



190 LOUISA CATIIEKINE ADAMS. 

it by inexornble circumstances. He could no longer re» 
main in safety at Elba. The Allies recognized no sanctity 
in tlieir oaths. They liad already violated their solemn 
treaty, and were meditating a piratic expedition for 
the seizure of his person. He could not flee in dis- 
guise, to be hunted a fugitive over the face of the 
earth. There was no resource open before him but 
boldly to throw himself into the arms of the people 
of France, who still loved him with deathless constan- 
cy. His resolve was honorable and noble." As Mrs. 
Adams approached Paris through the hostile country 
of the Allies, Napoleon with his few hundred men had 
commenced his march of seven hundred miles through 
a kingdom containing thirty millions of inhabitants, 
to capture the strongest capital in Europe. " An army 
of neai'ly two hundred thousand men under Bourbon 
leaders, and stationed in impregnable fortresses by the 
way, and the combined despots of Europe, had two 
millions of bayonets still glistening in the hands of 
their soldiers, all of which were pledged to sustain the 
iniquitous sway of the Bourbon usui'pers. Romance 
in her wihlest di-eams never conceived of such an en- 
terprise before. Yet the adventure had been earefully 
considered, and profound wisdom guided every step. 
The millions of France loved Napoleon almost to adora- 
tion. He knew it ; and he knew that he deserved it. 
Napoleon was well aware that all the great elements of 
success were in his favor, and he had no misgivings." 
Mrs. Adams found, as she neared Paris, the dangers to 
which she was exposed, and dismissing her servants 
who were afraid to go farther, hired others and con- 



A JOURNEY UNDER DIEFIC ULTIES. 191 

tlnued her approacli to her husband. But every cross 
road and tangled path was filled with soldiers wild 
with enthusiasm, rushing forward to join their great 
chief, and at one time she found herself surrounded 
by them. This was a very awkward position, as the 
troops seemed disposed to require from all around 
them the most unequivocal declaration of political faith. 
M.VS. Adams appealed to the commander of the de- 
tachment, and by his advice she was enabled to fall 
back, although not without the exercise of consider- 
able prudence, until the last of the men had passed, 
when she diverged into another road, and by making 
a considerable circuit, avoided any further meeting. 

Having proved, in this manner, that calmness and 
presence of mind render many things perfectly prac- 
ticable which imagination at first invests with insuper- 
able difficulties, she arrived in Paris safe and well, 
there to be greeted by her husband, on the evening 
of the 21st of March, 1815, immediately after that of 
the memorable arrival of Napoleon and the flight of 
the Bourbons. 

It was the privilege of Mrs. Adams to witness the 
adoration of the French for their Emperor, and to see 
with what enthusiastic delight they greeted his appear- 
ance, at a window or balcony of the Tuileries. With 
what pleasure she must have listened to the account 
of his entry ; crossing the bridge of Concorde, and 
dashing at full galop along the quay of the Tuile- 
ries, he entei-ed the court-yard of the palace by the 
arched gallery of the Louvre ; and of the frantic joy 
of the people as they bore him aloft in their arms, 



192 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. 

amid deafening cheers to the entrance and up the 
great staircase into the saloon of reception, where a 
splendid ari'ay of the ladies of the imperial court, 
adorned witli a ])rofiision of violet bouquets half-con- 
cealed in the richest laces, received him with transports, 
and imprinted fervent kisses on his cheeks, his hands, 
and even his dress. Never was there such a scene 
witnessed in histoiy, and it was worth years of paiu 
to listen to the myriad voices shouting their Vive 
I'Empereur ! and to read in each happy face the heart- 
felt welcome extended to theii' exiled Emperor. 
Curses followed the retreating footsteps of the imbe- 
cile old man who was again begging the combined 
power to reinstate him on his throne, but Napoleon's 
throne was in the bosoms of the people, and every- 
where excitement prevailed as the Imperial troops 
gathered for — Waterloo. 

The advantages thus thrown in the way of an 
American woman were justly appreciated by Mrs. 
Adams, and she, free fi'om prejudice, studied the 
strange perversities of fortune. The events of the 
hundred days were enough to crowd the memory of a 
life-time, and fills us at this day as we ponder over 
them, with awe and amazement. All was activity and 
eagerness, all bustle and confusion. The armies were 
reviewing in the square of the Place Carousel, and 
the inspiriting notes of martial music added gi'andeur 
to the graudness of the time and place. 

But the arrival of her children in England, from 
whom she had been separated since the autumn of 1809^ 



MINISTER TO ST. JAMKS. 193 

nearly six years, was of more interest to lier tlian tlie 
events happening around her. On the 25tli of May, 
1815, Mr. Adams arrived in London with his family, 
and soon afterward learned that he was a])poiuted 
Minister to the court of St. James. . The impression 
made upon the most eminent circles during his resi- 
dence in London, has been retained u}) to the present 
time. " His simple habits, his plain appearance, his 
untiring industry, his richly stored mind, his unbend- 
ing integrity, his general intercourse and correspond- 
ence with foreign courts and diplomatists of the great- 
est distinction, all tended to elevate, in a high degree, 
the American character in the estimation of European 
nations." 

Mrs. Adams had advantages in London which 
scarcely any American woman has ever had since ; true, 
she had not "wealth to make a great display, but her 
home was one of pleasant comfort, and enjoying as she 
did the society of one of the most intelligent of men, 
and of the best informed circle in the great capital, 
she had signal opportunities for cultivation. Charles 
King, in his eulogy on John Quincy Adams, speaks 
thus : " It was while Mr, Adams was Minister of the 
United States in London, that it was my personal good 
fortune to be admitted to his intimacy and friendship. 
Being then in London on private business, and having 
some previous acquaintance with Mr. Adams, I fo md 
in his house an ever kind welcome, and in his inter- 
course and conversation unfailing attraction and im- 
provement. Under an exterior of, at times, almost re- 
pulsive coldness, dwelt a heart as warm, sympathies as 
9 



194 LOUISA CATIIEKINE ADAMS. 

quick, and affections as overflowing, as ever animated 
any bosom. Ilis tastes, too, were all refined. Litera- 
ture and art were familiar and dear to liim, and hence 
it was that his society was at once so agreeable and so 
improving. At his hospitable board, I have listened 
to disquisitions from his lips on poetry, especially the 
dramas of Shakespeare, music, painting, sculpture- — of 
rare excellence and untirino; interest. The extent of 
his knowledge, indeed, and its accuracy, in all branches, 
were not less remarkable than the complete command 
which he appeared to possess over all his varied stores 
of learning and information." 

Mr. Monroe succeeded Mr. Madison in the Prcsi- 
doiitial chair in 1817, and immediately apj)ointed Mr. 
Adams his Secretary of State. On receiving notice of 
his appointment to this responsible office, Mr. Adams 
with his family end^arked for the United States, on 
board the packet-ship " Washington " and landed in 
New York on the 6th of August, 1817. A few days 
after his arrival, a public dinner was given him in 
Tammany Hall, New York. The room was elegantly 
decorated. In the centre was a handsome circle of 
oak leaves, roses, and flags — the whole representing, 
with much effect, our happy union— and from the cen- 
tre of which, as from ker native woods, ai)peared our 
eagle, bearing in her beak this impressive scroll: 



" Ooluiubia, great Republic, thou nrt blest, 
While Empires droop, aud monarcbs sink to rest." 

Soon afterward, Mr. Adams and fVimily w(mt to 



MOTHER AND SON. 195 

Boston to visit liis father's family, where he was the 
recipient of another public dinner : the last meeting 
with his mother on earth, it was one which he never 
forgot. It was gratifying to her sensitive nature to see 
him thus I'ising from one elevated position to another, 
and it soothed her aged heart beyond any power of 
expression. Many years of his life had been spent far 
away from her, and his absences were long and 
unbroken. She had always written regularly to him, 
and by example and precept endeavored to instil into 
his nature some portion of her own aspirations. When 
his talents had won for him this last position, she 
bowed her head and thanked God. Perhaps her spirit 
recognized his still higher promotion, and the natural 
conclusion, arrived at from former precedents, that-^by 
gradual ascent he would reach the place his father oc- 
cupied, occurred to her. When she was gathered to 
the graves of her ancestors, he was in Washington, 
busy with the manifold duties of his place, whither he 
had gone to reside permanently, in September, 181Y. 

The performance of the duties of the State De- 
partment necessarily required a residence at Washing- 
ton, and the manner in which Mr. Adams thought 
proper to devote himself to them, devolved upon his 
lady the e.ntire task of making his house an agreeable 
resort to the multitudes of visitors who crowd to the 
capital on errands of business, or curiosity, or pleasure, 
fi'om the various sections of the United States during 
the winter season. A large diplomatic corps from 
foreign countries, who feel themselves in more imme- 
diate relations witli the Secretary of State, and a dis- 



196 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. 

tinguislied set of public men, not then divided by 
party lines in tbe manner whidi usually prevails, ren 
dered the society of that time, and Mrs. Adams' house 
where it most often concentrated, among the in^st 
asrreeable recorded in our annals. 

Much as it has been ridiculed since, the " era of good 
feelings" had some characteristics peculiar to itself. 
For an instant, sectional animosities relented, the tone 
of personal denunciation and angry crimination, too gen- 
erally prevailing in extremes, yielded; and even where 
the jealous rivalry for political honors still predom- 
inated in the hearts of men, the easy polish of general 
society removed from casual spectators any sense of 
its roughness, or inconvenience from its impetuosity. 
Washington may have presented more brilliant spec- 
tacles since, but the rancor of party spirit has ever 
mingled its baleful force too strongly not to be per- 
ceptible in the personal relations which have existed 
between the most distinguished of our political men. 

The following letter from Mrs. Adams to her fath- 
er-in-law will be read with interest. She corresponded 
regularly during her life in Washington, with him, un- 
til his death, in 1826. At no distant day we hope to 
see this interesting correspondence published : — 



To John Adams. 

" Washington, 16tli April, 1819. 

"Yes ! my dear sir, was my mind sufficiently strong 
or capacious to understand, or even to comprehend the 



THE THP:0KIES of MODERJSr PHILOSOPHY. 197 

study of ancient and modern ptilosopliy, I am certain 
I should derive very great advantage from that study ; 
but you certainly forgot when you recommended it, 
that you were addi'essing the weaker sex, to whom sto- 
icism would be both unamiable and unnatural, and 
who would be very liable in avoiding Scylla, to strike 
upon Charybdis, or to speak without metaphor, to 
rush into skepticism. Have you perceived any thing like 
fatalism in my letters ? I am unconscious of it, though 
I fear there may sometimes be a little inclination to* 
ward it. The woman you selected for your wife, was so 
higlily gifted in mind, with powers so vast, and such 
quick and clear perception, altogether so superior to 
the general run of females, you have perhaps formed a 
too enlarged opinion of the capacities of our sex, and 
having never witnessed their frailties, are not aware of 
the dangers to which they are exposed, by acquire- 
ments above their strength. 

" The systems of the ancients have been quite out of 
my reach, excepting the Dialogues of Plato, which Mr 
A. recommended to me last year, and which I read at- 
tentively. I cannot say that I am entirely unacquaint- 
ed with their different theories, but that acquaintance 
has been too superficial to make them well understood, 
and I have been too much inclined to view them, as 
difficult of practice, and not tending much to the real 
benefit of mankind. With the modern philosophers 
I have become more intimate, if I may make use of 
such a word, speaking of works which I have read, 
but which I could not understand or dia^est. Locke 
has puzzled me, Bei'kley amused me, Reid astonished 



198 LOUISA OATIIERINE ADAMS. 

nie, Hume disgusted me, and Tucker either diverted 
me or set me to sleep. Tiiis is a very liuiited sort of 
reading, and you will laugli at my catalogue of names^ 
wliicli have at best, I believe, but little title to the rank 
of philosophers, or at least must come in at the fag end. 
I have dipped into others and thrown them aside, but 
I have never seen any thing that would satisfy my 
mind, or that would compare with the chaste and ex- 
quisitely simple doctrines of Christianity. 

" I fear you will find this letter more extravagant 
than any you have ever received from me, but I have 
made it a rule to follow where the current of my ideas 
cai'iied me, and to give them to you in a perfect un- 
dress. My reading has been too general, and too dif- 
fuse to be very beneficial. French authors have occu- 
pied my attention the largest portion of my life, but 
their venom was destroyed, by the events which were 
continually passing almost befoi-e my eyes, and which 
showed how wicked was the practice resulting from 
such theoi'ies. You, my dear sir, have ever possessed 
a nature too ardent, too full of benevolent feelings to 
all your race with a mind too noble, and a capacity 
too enlarged, to sink into the cold and thankless state 
of stoicism. Your heart is too full of all the generous 
and kindly affections for you ever to acquire such a 
cold and selfish doctrine. No, my dear sir, it was, it 
is impossible. Look at your past life, retrace all the 
eminent services you have rendered to your country, 
and to mankind, and if you, by unforeseen and uncon- 
trollable events, have been prevented from doing all 
you wished, all you desired, toward promoting their 



POPULAR GOVERNMENTS. 199 

felicity, let their unequalled prosperity (in producing 
which, you had so lai-ge a share) soothe your latest 
hours, and cheer your heart with the conviction, that 
to you, in a great measure, they owe it ; and this sen- 
timent alone will be sufficient reward. I set out in life 
with the most elevated notions of honor and principle ; 
ere I had entered it fairly, my h(jpes wei-e blasted, and 
my ideas of mankind, that is, all the favourable ones 
almost, were suddenly chilled, and I was very near 
forming the horrid and erj'oneous opinion, that no such 
thing as virtue existed. This was a dreadful doctrine 
at the age of little moi'e than twenty, but it taught me 
to reflect and not to ' ]juild my house in the sand.' 
My life lias Ijeeu a life of changes, and I had eai-ly ac- 
customed myself to the idea of retirement. The na- 
ture of our institutions, the various turns of policy to 
which an elective government is ever liable, has long 
occupied my thoughts, and I trust I may find strength 
to sustain any of the changes whicli may be in store 
for me, with fortitude, dignity, and I trust clieerful- 
ness. To these clianges, I can never attach the idea of 
disgrace. Popular governments are peculiarly liable 
to factions, to cabals, to intrigue, to the juggling tricks 
of party, and the people may often be deceived for a 
time, by some fair speaking demagogue, but they will 
never be deceived long; and though tliey may, in a mo- 
ment of excitement, sanction an injustice toward an 
old and faithful servant, they appreciate his worth, and 
hand his name down with honor to posterity, even 
though that ' name may not be agreeable to the fash* 
ionables.' It is one which I take a pi'ide in bearing. 



200 LOUISA CATHERINE ABAMS. 

and one that I liope and pray my children may never 
dishonor. 

" What you say concerning the Floridas is, I believe, 
universally allowed, and as to the effect upon the 
name, why, it is of little importance, provided the sub- 
stance is left, and the act undeniable. There is the 
lance, let the lance speak — I can safely swear as an in- 
dividual I never set my heart on what the world calls 
a great reward. lam too well assured that 'uneasy 
lies the head that wears a cro^vn,' and the station is 
too full of thorns to render it very desirable. I have 
no relish for being absolutely crucified for the sake of 
a short preeminence. You have, I suppose, seen the 
correspondence between Gen. Scott and old Hickory ? 
How do you like the epistle of the former ? What do 
you think of De Witt Clinton's reply to the charge in- 
sinuated against him ? We hear of nothing but com- 
plaints of the times, and our commercial world are in 
great distress. In Baltimore (that city where the 
South American Privateers are owned and fitted out 
by native citizens in the very face of the public, and 
committing depredations on the property of their fel- 
low-citizens) there are failui*es every day, and it is said 
the mischief will extend to all parts of the Union. In 
Vii'ginia, a man who broke out of the jail in this city, 
has offered himself as a candidate for Congress, telling 
the electors that he would take only six dollars a day, 
as he thinks eight too much ; because if he found his 
pay insufficient, he would pla}^, and by this means in- 
sure himself a living. That he had often played with 
their late membei', and with many of the most distin- 



NON-PARTISAN RECEPTIONS. 201 

guislied members of Congress, wlio used to send for 
him to play with them. Such things are — 

" Adieu, my dear Sir." 
" During the eight years in which Mrs. Adams pre- 
sided in the house of the Secretary of State," writes her 
son, Hon. Charles Francis Adams, in 1839, "no exclu- 
sions were made, in her invitations, merely on account 
of any real or imagined political hostility*; nor, though 
keenly alive to the reputation of her husband, was any 
disposition manifested to do more than to amuse and 
enliven society. In this, the success was admitted to 
be complete, as all will remember who were then in 
the habit of frequenting her dwelling. But in propor- 
tion as the great contest for the Presidency, in which 
Mr. Adams was involved, approaclied, the violence of 
partisan warfare began to manifest its usual bad effects, 
and Mrs. Adams decided to adopt habits of greater 
seclusion. When at last the result had placed her in 
the President's mansion, her health began to fail her 
so much, that though she continued to preside upon 
occasions of public reception, she ceased to appear at 
any other times, and she began to seek the retirement 
which ever since her return to private she has preferred. 
Mr. Adams has been, it is true, and still continues, a 
representative, in Congress, from the state of Massachu- 
setts, and this renders necessary an annual migration 
from that State to Washino;ton and back ao-ain, as well 
as a winter residence within the sound of the gayeties 
of that place ; but while her age and health dispense 
her from the necessities of attending them, severe do- 
mestic afflictions have contributed to remove the dis- 



202 LOUISA CATHERINJi ADAMS. 

position. Tlius tlie attractions of great European 
capitals, and tlie dissipation consequent upon liigii offi- 
cial station at homo, thougli continued through that 
part of her life when habits become most lixed, have 
done nothing to change the natural elegance of her 
manners, nor the simplicity of her tastes. In the so- 
ciety of a t'e.w friends and near relatives, and in the 
cultivation of tlie religious altections without display, 
she draws all the consolation that can in this world l)e 
afforded for her privations. To the world Mrs. Adams 
presents a tine example of the possibility of retiring 
from the circles of fashion, and the external fascin;ir 
tions of life, in time still to retain a taste for the more 
quiet though less showy attractions of the domestic 
■fireside, A strong literaiy taste which has led her to 
read nuich, and a capacity for composition in prose and 
verse, have been I'esources for her leisure moments ; 
not with a view to that exhibition which renders such 
accomplishments too often fatal to the more delicate 
shades of feminine character, but for her own gratifica- 
tion and that of a few I'clations and friends. The late 
President Adams used to draw much amusement, in his 
latest years at Quincy, from the accurate delineation of 
Washington manners and character, which was regu- 
larly transmitted, for a considerable period, in letters 
from her pen. And if as time advances, she becomes 
gradually less able to devote her sense of sight to read- 
ing and writing, her practice of the more homely vir- 
tues of manual industry, so highly conunended in the 
final chapter of the book of Solomon, still anuises the 
vleclinini'- da\ s of her varied ciU'cer.'' 



THE INAUGURATION. 203 

On tlie fourtli of March, ISi^f), .Tolm Qiiincy Ad 
anis was inaugurated as President of tlie United 
States, and took the executive chair, which liad been 
entei'cd twenty-eight years before by his venerated 
father. Tlie scene at the inauguration was splendid 
and imposing. At an early liour of the day, the ave- 
nues leading to the capitol presented an animated 
spectacle. Crowds of citizens on foot, in carriages, and 
on horseback, were hastening to the great centre of 
attraction. Strains of martial music and the move- 
ments of the various military corps heightened the 
excitement, 

At 12 o'clock, the military escort, consisting of 
general and staff olticers and several volunteer com- 
panies, received the President elect at his residence, 
together with President Monroe and several olQicers of 
government. The procession, led by the cavalry, and 
accompanied by an immense concourse of citizens, 
proceeded to the capitol, where it was received with 
militaiy honors by the U. S. Marine Corps, under Col. 
Henderson. 

Meanwhile the hall of the House of Representa- 
tives presented a brilliant spectacle. The galleries 
and the lobbies were crowded with spectators. The 
sofas between the columns, the bar, the promenade in 
the rear of the Speaker's chair, and the three outer 
rows of the members' seats were occupied by a splen- 
did array of beauty and ftxshion. On the left, the 
Diplomatic Corps, in the costume of their respective 
courts, occupied the place assigned them, immediately 
before the steps Avhich lead to the chair. The ollicers 



204 LOUISA CATIIEMNE ADAMS. 

of tlie army and navy were scattered in gi'oupa 
tlirongliout the hall. In front of the clerk's table 
chairs were placed for the Judges of the Supreme. 
Court. 

At twenty minutes past 12 o'clock, the marshah, 
in blue scarfs, made their appearance in the hall, at 
the head of the august procession. First came the 
officers of both Houses of Congress. Then appeared 
the President elect, followed by the venerable ex- 
President Monroe, with his family. To these succeed- 
ed the Judges of the Supreme Court, in their robes of 
office, the members of the Senate, preceded by the 
Vice-President, with a number of the members of the 
House of Representatives. 

Mr. Adams, in a plain suit of black, made entirely 
of American manufactures, ascended to the speaker's 
chair and took his seat. The Chief Justice was placed 
in front of the clerk's table, having before him another 
table on the floor of the hall, on the opposite side of 
which sat the remaining judges, with their faces to- 
ward the chair. The doors having been closed, and 
silence proclaimed, Mr. Adams arose, and in a distinct 
and Arm tone of voice, read his inaugural address. 

The congratulations which then poured in from 
every side, occupied the hands, and could not but 
reach the heart, of President Adams. The meeting 
between him and his venerated predecessor had in it 
something peculiarly affecting. General Jackson was 
among the earliest of those who took the hand of the 
President ; and their looks and deportment toward 
each other were a rebuke to that littleness of party 



FATHER AND SON. 205 

spirit wliicli can see no merit in a rival, and feel no joy 
in the honor of a competitor. Shortly after 1 o'clock, 
the procession commenced leaving the hall. The Pres- 
ident was escorted back as he came. On his arrival at 
his residence, he received the compliments and respects 
of a great number of ladies and gentlemen, who called 
on him to tender their congratulations. The proceed- 
ings of the day were closed by an " inaugural ball " in 
the evening. Among the guests present were the 
President and Vice-President, Ex-President Monroe, 
a number of foreign ministers, with many civil, mili- 
tary, and naval officers.* 

Mrs. Adams gave up the comforts of her home, 
and took possession of the White House soon after the 
inauguration. The spring and summer wore quietly 
awa}^, for even in the White House, sociability is con- 
fined to the winter season, and save the visits of friends, 
nothing occurred to vary the monotony of every- day 
life. Her children were a consolation to her in her in- 
firm condition, for her health failed her as soon as she 
moved in the President's house. In the following Sep- 
tember, she accompanied her husband on a visit to his 
aged father at Quiucy, but being taken very ill at Phila- 
delphia, the President was compelled to proceed with- 
out her. He did not remain long, and on the 14th of 
October set out again for Washington. It was the last 
time Mr. Adams ever saw his father ! " The aged pa- 
triarch had lived to see his country emancipated from 
foreign thraldom, its independence acknowledged, ita 
union consummated, its prosperity and perpetuity rest- 

♦ National Intelligencer, 182.:. 



20<) LOmSA CATHERINE ADAMS. 

1112: on an immovable foundation, and liis son elevated 
to the highest office in its ^ift. It was enough ! Ilia 
work accomplished — the book of his eventful life writ 
ten and sealed for immortality — he Avas ready to de- 
part and be at peace. The 4tli of July, 182C, will 
long be memorable for one of the most remarkable 
coincidences that have ever taken place in the history 
of nations. It was the fiftieth anniversary, the jubi- 
lee of American Independence ! Preparations had 
been made throughout the Union to celebrate the day 
with unusual pomp and display. John Adams and 
Thomas Jefferson had both been invited to participate 
in the festivities of the occasion, at their several places 
of abode. But a higher summons awaited them : they 
were bidden to a 'jubilee' above, which shall have no 
end ! On that half-century Anniversary of American 
Independence, at nearly the same hour of tlie day, the 
spirits of Adams and Jefferson took their departure 
from earth I Amid the rejoicings of the people, the peals 
of artillery, the strains of music, the exultations of a 
great nation in the enjoyment of freedom, peace, and 
happiness, they were released from the toils of life, and 
allowed to enter on their rest." 

These two patriarchs had been corresponding regu- 
larly, and their letters had attracted the attention of 
Europe as well as America. Mr. Adams had written 
the last letter in which occurs the following expression : 
" Half an hour ago, I received, and this moment have 
heard read, for the third or fourth time, the best letter 
that was ever written by an octogenarian, dated June 
1st" 



PURITY OF THE EIVAL PRESIDENTS. 207 

The editor of the London Morning Chronicle pre* 
faces his notice of this correspondence with the follow 
ing remarks : — 

" What a contrast the following correspondence of 
the two rival Presidents of the greatest republic of 
the world, reflecting an old age dedicated to virtue, 
temperance, and philosophy, presents to the heart-sick- 
ening details occasionally disclosed to us, of the miser- 
able beings who fill the thrones of the continent. 
There is not, perhaps, one sovereign of the continent, 
who in any sense of the word can be said to honor our 
nature, while many make us almost ashamed of it. The 
curtain is seldom drawn aside without exhibiting to us 
beings worn out with vicious indulgence, diseased in 
mind, if not in body, the creatures of caprice and in- 
sensibility. On the other hand, since the foundation of 
the American Republic, the chair has never been filled 
by a man, for whose life (to say the least), any Araeri 
can need once to blush. It must, therefore, be some 
compensation to the Americans for the absence of pure 
monarchy, that when they look upward, their eyes are 
not always met by vice, and meanness, and often 
idiocy."" 

The administration of Mr. Adams was remarkable 
for the peace and prosperity of the country, and tliere 
was therefore no event in Mrs. Adams life of a stirring 
nature, "No crisis occurred in national affairs, no im- 
minent peril from without, or danger within, threat- 
ened the well-being of the country ! Quietness reigned 
throughout the world, and the nations were allowed 
once more to cultivate the arts of peace, to enlarge the 



208 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. 

operations of commerce, and to fix tlieir attention on 
domestic interests, the only true fountain of national 
prosperity. During no Presidential term since the or- 
ganization of the Government, has more been done to 
consolidate the Union, and develop its resources, and 
aay the foundations of national strength and prosperity." 

Mr. Adams was certainly the most learned man 
who has yet occupied the Presidential chair. No one 
at all acquainted with his life, will deny this assertion. 
Profoundly versed in the lore of the ancients, he was 
yet more thoroughly acquainted with the history of 
modern governments, and was a deep thinker, as well 
as an eloquent sj^eaker. A southern clergyman visited 
him during his administration and was astonished to 
find he was intimately acquainted with all sects and 
ci-eeds, and had read every book he could mention. 
Finally he remembered one work of importance, and 
asked if he had read it. Mr. Adams had not, where- 
upon the minister, delighted with his success, told it 
everywhere and was afterward known as the man who 
had read one more book than John Quincy Adams. 

Mrs. Adams retired from the White House with 
heartfelt pleasure, and sought the quiet her delicate 
health demanded. 

The following interesting account of an interview 
with ex-P]'esident Adams, by a southern gentleman, in 
1834, affords some conception of the home of Mrs. 
Adams at Quincy. 

'* Yesterday, accompanied by my friend T., I paid 
a visit to the venerable ex-President, at his residence 
in Quincy. A violent rain setting in as soon as we ar- 



AT HOME IN QUINCY. 209 

]'ived, gave us from five to nine o'clock to listen to the 
learnins: of this man of books. His residence is a 
plain, very plain one ; the room into which we were 
ushered (the drawing-room, I suppose), Avas furnished 
in true I'epublican style. It is probably of ancient 
construction, as I perceived two beams projecting from 
tlu^ low ceiling, in the manner of the beams in a ship's 
cabin. Prints commemorative of political events, and 
the old family portraits hung about the room ; com- 
mon straw matting covered the floor, and two candle- 
sticks, bearing sperm candles, ornamented the mantle- 
piece. The personal appearance of the ex-President 
himself, corresponds with the simplicity of his furni- 
ture. He resembles rather a substantial, well-fed 
farmer, than orie who has wielded the destinies of this 
mighty confederation, and been bred in the ceremony 
and etiquette of a European court. In fact, he ap- 
pears to possess none of that sternness of character 
which you would suppose to belong to one a large part 
of whose life has been spent in political warfare, or. at 
any rate, amidst scenes requiring a vast deal of nerve 
and inflexibility. Mrs. Adams is described in a word 
— a lady. She has all the warmth of heart and ease 
of manner that mark the character of the southern 
ladies, and from which it would be no easy matter to 
distinguish her. 

The ex-President was the chief talker. He 
spoke with infinite ease, drawing upon his vast re- ' 
sources with the certainty of one who has his lecture 
before him ready written. The whole of his con- 
vei'sation, which steadily he maintained for nearly 
14 



210 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. 

four hours, was a continued stream of light. Well 
contented was I to be a listener. His subjects were 
the architecture of the middle ages ; the stained glass 
of that period ; sculpture, embracing monuments par- 
ticularly. On this subject, his opinion of Mrs. Night- 
ingale's monument in Wesminster Abbey differs from 
all others that I have seen or heard. He places it 
above every other in the Abbey, and observed in re- 
lation to it, that the spectator " saw nothing else." 
Milton, Shakspeare, Shenstone, Pope, Byron, and 
Southey were in turn remarked upon. He gave Pope 
a wonderfully high character, and remarked that one 
of his chief beauties was the skill exhibited in ranging 
the cesural pause, quoting from various parts of his 
author to illustrate his remarks more fully. He said 
very little on the politics of the country. He spoke 
at considerable length of Sheridan and Burke, both 
of whom he had heard, and could describe with the 
most graphic effect. He also spoke of Junius ; and it 
is remai'kable that he should place him so far above 
the best of his cotemporaries. He spoke of him as a 
bad man ; but maintained, as a writer, that he had 
never been equalled. The conversation never flagged 
for a moment ; and on the whole I shall remember my 
visit to Quincy as amongst the most instructive and 
pleasant I ever passed." 

Mrs. Adams enjoyed the pleasures of her home but 
one year, when Mr. Adams was elected a Member of 
Congress, and from that time forward to the hour of 
his death he represented the Plymouth district with 
" unswerving fidelity and distinguished honor." Mr. 



DEATH IN THE CAPITOL. 211 

A-clams took his seat in the House of Representatives 
in December, 1831, and from that time forward Ms 
family resided in Washington, in a house owned by 
them situated on I street. For fifteen years he was a 
Member of Congress, residing continually at Washing- 
ton, although making frequent visits to his old home. 

More than four-score years had left their im- 
press upon Mr. Adams' brow, and he was still in the 
midst of his usefulness. In November, 1846, he had 
a stroke of paralysis, from which he never recovered. 
On the morning of that day, while sojourning at the 
residence of his son, in Boston, preparing to depart for 
Washington, he was walking out with a friend to visit 
a new medical college, and was attacked by the way. 
After several weeks, he recovered sufficiently to return 
to his duties at the capital, but never afterward en- 
tirely recovered. On Monday, the 21st of February, 
1848, at half-past one o'clock, whilst in his seat in the 
House, he was struck a second time with the same dis- 
ease. He was removed to the Speaker's apartment, 
borne on a sofa by several members, and plasters ap- 
plied, which seemed to relieve him. Mrs. Adams was 
sent for, and on his recovering consciousness, was glad- 
dened by her presence in answer to his inquiry for her. 
She was in extreme illness and suffering acute sorrow, but 
remained beside him, sustained by her niece and nephew. 
Mr. Adams lay in the Speaker's room in a state of ap- 
parent unconsciousness through the 22d and 23d, — Con- 
gress, in the mean time, assembling in respectful silence, 
and immediately adjourning from day to day. At 
seven o'clock on the evening of the 23d he died. 



212 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. 

President Polk issued a Proclamation announcing his 
death, and orders were issued from all the Depart* 
ments directing that suitable honors should be paid 
the illustrious dead. The funeral took place in the 
capitol, at twelve o'clock, Saturday, 26th of February, 
after which the body was conveyed to the Congres- 
sional burying-ground to remain until the completion 
of the preparations for their removal to Quincy. 

The following letter of thanks from Mrs. Adams, 
addressed to the Speaker, was laid before the House of 
Representatives : — 

" Washington, Feb. 29tli, 1848. 

*' Sm : — ^The resolutions in honor of my dear deceased 
husband, passed by the illustrious assembly over which 
you preside, and of which he at the moment of his 
death was a member, have been duly communicated 
to me. 

" Penetrated with grief at this distressing event of 
my life, mourning the loss of one who has been at once 
my example and my support through the trials of half 
a century, permit me nevertheless to express through 
you my deepest gratitude for the signal manner in 
which the public regard has been voluntarily manifest- 
ed by your honorable body, and the consolation de- 
rived to me and mine from the reflection that the un- 
weared efforts of an old public servant have not even 
in this world proved without their reward in the gen- 
erous appreciation of them by his country. 

" With great respect, I remain. Sir, your obedient 

Beivant, 

" Louisa Catheuine Adams." 



VARIED ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 213 

On the following week, the remains of the deceased 
ex-President were conveyed to Quiucy, acconipaiued 
by a committee of one from each State and Territory 
in the Union. 

After this sad event in Mrs. Adams life, she lived 
uninterruptedly at her home in Quincy, enjoying the so- 
ciety of her children and relations. From a distin- 
guished member of her family, I have received the fol- 
lowing letter, fi'om which, although marked ])rivate, 
I take the liberty of extracting a few items of parti- 
cular interest. 

" I should be very glad to be of service to you if I 
were possessed of the material which you seem to de- 
sire in connection with the life of my mother. But I 
fear they are not to be found among the papers left by 
her. She WTote much and read a great deal, both of 
French and English literature, and translated from the 
former for the amusement of her friends. She also 
wrote verses frequently in the same Avay. But all 
these accomplishments of hers, including a nice taste in 
music and a well cultivated voice, are matters of little 
moment in a publication, however much they may con- 
tribute to the refinement of the social circle at home. 
Although she lived to quite an advanced age, her 
health was always delicate and variable, so as to inter- 
rupt the even tenor of her life and disincline her to the 
efforts required for general society, especially duiing 
her twelve years spent at different courts in Euro])e." 

Mrs. Adams died the 14th of May, 1852, and w^as 
buried by the side of her husband, in the family bury- 
ing grounds at Quincy, Massachusetts. 



VII. 

RACHEL JACKSON". 

The cruel misrepresentations of political opponents 
had crushed the heart of Eachel Jackson, and ended 
her days before her husband took possession of the 
Home of the Presidents. She was denied the errati- 
iication of accompanying him to Washington, and 
of gracing the White House, but she was even in 
death the President's wife, and as such is ranked. In 
his heart she lived there, the object of the most death- 
less and exalted affection, the spiritual comforter and 
companion of liis lonely hours. The friends and visit- 
ors of the new President saw her not, nor was she 
mentioned by the throng ; but to him she was ever 
present in the form of memory and eternal, undying 
love. 

The day of party strife and bitterness toward Gen- 
eral Jackson has passed away forever, and the nobility 
and refined sensibility of his nature are at last appreci- 
ated. The slanders and falsehoods which embittered his 
earthly life, have been eclipsed by the sunlight of truth, 
and over the lapse of years comes ringing the prophetic 
assertion of the immutability of right. He is avenged. 
Once it was the fashion to revile him, and multitudes 
in this country who had no independent judgments of 
their own, took up the gossip of the day and pursued 
their congenial calling, even after death had taken him 
fi-om their sight forever. 




/-v^ ^#\j 



^ 




'Si]E"^"$\y 



PIOJSTEEE LIFE. 215 

Down from tlie canvas beams his speaking eye 
upon us, and its meaning seems to say, justice to her is 
honor to me. With feelings an American only can 
appreciate, the task is undertaken, and whatever its 
defects may be, its merit is its ti'uthfulness. 

In 1779, Col. John Doneldson, a brave and wealthy 
old Virginia surveyor, started to the banks of the Cum- 
berland with a party of emigrants. He had been pre- 
ceded by Captain James Robertson and his companions, 
nine sturdy j)ioneers, who had engaged to build huts, 
plant corn, and make as comfortable a home as possible 
for the band that was to follow. This consisted of 
families, and among them the families of several of 
those adventurous pioneers. 

The country was full of Indians, the forests deep, 
wild, and unexplored, and the perils very great. In 
order to escape the toil and danger of travelling through 
the wilderness, Colonel Donelson accomplished the 
journey by water. It was a distance of more than 
two thousand miles, and never before had any man 
been bold enough to proje(;t such a voyage. They 
sailed down the Holston river to the Tennessee, down 
the Tennessee to its junction with the Ohio, up the 
Ohio til] .they reached the Cumberland, and up this 
stream to the French Salt Springs, on the spot where 
now stands the city of Nashville. Colonel Donelson 
kept an account of this remarkable and perilous voy- 
age, entitled, " Journal of a voyage, intended by God's 
permission, in the good boat Adventure, from Fort 
Patrick Henry on Holston river, to the French Salt 
Springs on Cumberland river, kept by John Donel 



216 RACHEL JACKSOI^. 

son," and tlie thrilling incidents and remarkable per< 
sonal adventures are deeply interesting. 

They were four months on the journey, the suffer- 
ings and privations of which can scarcely he apprecia- 
ted by the more fortunate who now travel the same 
way amid quiet woods, green fields, and peaceful coun- 
try homes. To those adventurers, the dangerous points 
of the rivers were unk^iown, and many were the acci- 
dents that befell them. They started in the depths of 
winter and were obliged to encounter excessive 
cold and frosts. But worse than all, the Indians were 
ever on the watch to entrap them. The journal says, 
" we still perceived them, marching down the river in 
considerable bodies, keeping pace with us." The wild- 
est, most romantic, and lonely spot on this continent is 
the " Whirl," in the Tennessee river, where the river is 
compressed within less than half its usual width by 
the Cumberland mountain which juts in on both sides. 
Its beauty is only equalled by its danger. In passing 
through this place, a large canoe containing all the 
property of ojie of the emigrants, was overturned and 
the little cargo was lost. The family had gone into a 
larger boat for safety. " The company," says Col. 
Donelson, "pitying their distress, concluded to halt and 
assist in recovering the property. We had landed on 
the northern shore, at a level spot, and were going up 
to the place, when the Indians, to our astonishment, 
appeared immediately over us on the opposite cliffs, 
and commenced firing down upon us, which occasioned 
a precipitate retreat to the boats. We immediately 
moved off." 



FEONTIER LIFE. 217 

One of this intrepid little band of emigrants, shar- 
ing in its hardships and dangers, was Rachel Don eh 
son, the daughter of Col. John Donelson. She was 
then a l)right-eyed, l)hick-haired, spriglitly, pretty 
ohikl of a])out twelve years. On the 24th of April, 
1780, they reached the little settlement of log-cabins 
that Captain Kobertson and his band had made ready 
for them. But perils and privations were not past. 
The Indians were wily and untiring in laying their 
crafty ambushes, and many were the victims that fell 
within their deadly grasp, and were despatched by 
their murderous weapons. With all these troubles, 
however, the settlement grew in numbers and in 
strength ; such was the intrepidity and the perserving 
energy which inspired these heroic men and women. 
As Colonel Donelson was one of the most influential, 
he became one of the wealthiest of the settlers. He 
had owned extensive ii'on works in Pittsylvania Coun- 
ty, Virginia, which he had sold when he started to the 
West. Prior and subsequent to the revolution, he 
was a member of the House of Burgess, and had re- 
peatedly represented the counties of Campbell and Pitt- 
sylvania. Tho7nas Jefferson and Patrick Henry were 
his personal friends ; he held commissions under each 
of them to execute important trusts, such as the sur- 
vey of state lines, the negotiating of treaties with In- 
dians, or establishing the authority of the State over 
distant territory. His confidence in General Washing- 
ton "was implicit, and the earnestness with which he 
spoke his sentiments had a most happy and conserva- 
tive influence over the people of the West. The little 
10 



218 KACinOL JACK801S". 

colony soon began tosiifter from I lie insufficient supply 
of corn and of powder and lead, and as tLe family of 
Colonel Donelson numbered many children and ser- 
vants, he concluded to remove with them to Kentucky. 
He had in tliat State, moreover, land claims which he 
could more easily attend to and secure by being there. 
During his residence there, his daughter llachel was 
married to Lewis Kobards, a man of good family. She 
had grown up annd the trials and dangers of a frontier 
life, but the examples that she daily saw of noble for- 
titude, of calm bravery, and of heroic labor were worth 
many a tamer and weaker lesson of more civili;<;ed life. 
She grew up accomplished in the higher art of making 
home attractive and relatives happy. She was at the 
same time li\ely and gentle, gifted with patience and 
prudence, and ^^ inning in her simple and unaffected 
manners. 

Soon after his daughter's marriage, Colonel Donel- 
son returned to Tennessee with his tamil}'. In the fall 
of 1785, while surveying in the woods far from home, 
this brav.' and gallant gentleman was })ierced by bul- 
lets from an imseen foe, and dietl the same night. 
Judge John Overton, then a young lawyer, in the fall 
of 1787, went to Mercer County, Kentucky, and be- 
came a boarder in the family of Mrs. Kobards, where 
Lewis Ivobards and his wife were living. Judge 
Overton was not long in discovering that they lived very 
unliai)[)ily, because Captain llobards Avas jealous of 
a gentleman named Short. His disposition was ex- 
tremely luifortunate, and ke}>t the whole family iu 
uneasiness and distress. This unpleasant state of 



AN UNHAPPY MAKRIA<ni:. 219 

affairs couiimiod to iiR'i'oaso until .Cupttiiii Ivobanla 
\vr()t(^ to lii.s i!iotlKU'-iii-la\v, tlu'- widowed Mrs. Doucl' 
Hon, rc'(j[ucstino; tluit slio would take liur duugliter 
home, as he did not intend to live with her any longer. 
Sometime in the hitter part of 1788, Samuel Donelson 
came and started away with his sister. Judge Overton 
says, " my elear and distinct recollection is, that it was 
said to be a hnal separation, at the instance of Captain 
Robards; ibr I well recollect the distress of old Mrs. 
liobards on account of her daughter-indaw, Rachel, 
going away, and on account of the separation that was 
about to take ])lace, together with the circumstanc(i of 
the oh I lady's end)racing her alfectionately. The okJ 
lady always blamed her son Lewis, and took the part 
of her daughter-indaw." 

Jiidg(3 Ov'crton farther remarks, that he never 
lieard any of the family censure young Mrs. Roljards 
on account of the unhappy diiference between her hus- 
band and herself; but that he frecpuaitly heard them 
express tlu; most favorable sentiments regarding her. 

As stated in his narrativa^, puldishcMl in 1827, Judge 
Overton deciding to fix his residence in Tennessee, left 
old Mi's. Robards, with the promise that he would use 
his best (nideavors to eft'ect a reconciliation l)et\veen 
her son Lewis and his wife, particularly as her son 
seemed unhappy, and regretful of what had occurred^ 
Tlu^ Judge took occasion to speak with him upon the 
suhj(;ct, and he said lu; was couvIikhmI that his suspi- 
cions were unfounded, and that he wished to live with 
his wife. Upon arriving at his destination in Tennessee, 
by a remarkable and romantic coincidence, the judge 



220 RACHEL JACKSON. 

RQ-am became a boarder in the same house with Mrs. 
Lewis Robards. Mrs. Douelson, her mother, was not 
only wilhng to accommodate him but was ghid to add 
to the number of her protectoi's against the Indians. 
Another lawyer, Andrew Jackson, became a boarder 
with Mrs. Donelson at the same time, being introduced 
by Judge Overton. " Soon after my arrival," contin- 
ues the judge in his narrative, '*I had fi'equent con- 
versations with Mrs. Lewis Kobards, on the subject of 
living happily with her husband. She, with much 
sensibility^ assured me that no effort to do so should 
be wanting on her part ; and I communicated the re- 
sult to Captain Robards and his mother, from both of 
whom I received congratulations and thanks. 

" Captain Robards had previously purchased a pre- 
emption in this country on the south side of the Cum- 
berland I'iver, in Davidson County, about five miles 
from where Mrs. Donelson then lived. In the arrange- 
ment for a reunion between Ca[)taiu Robards and his 
wife, I understood it was agreed that Captain Robards 
was to live in this country instead of Kentucky; and 
that until it was safe to go to his own land, he and his 
wife were to live at Mrs. Douelson's.*" They became 
reunited in the year 1Y89. 

" Not many months elapsed before Robards became 
jealous of Jackson, which, I felt confident, was with- 
out the least ground. Some of his irritating conver- 
sations on this subject with his wife, I heard amidst 
the tears of herself and her mother, who were greatly 
distressed. I urged to Robards the unmanlinessof his 
conduct, after the pains I had taken to produce har- 



JEALOUSY AND FLIGHT. 221 

mony as a mutual friend of botli families, and my 
honest conviction that bis suspicions were groundless. 
These remonstrances seemed not to have the desired 
effect. As much commotion and unhappiuess pre- 
vailed in the family as in that of Mrs. llobards, in 
Kentucky. At length I communicated to Jackson the 
unpleasant situation of living in a family where thei'e 
was so much disturbance, and concluded by telling 
him that we would endeavor to get some other j)lace. 
To this he readily assented. 

" Being conscious of his innocence, Jackson said he 
would talk to Robards. What passed between them, 
I do not know. Mrs. Donelson related that Robards 
became violently angry and abusive, and said that he 
was determined not to live with Mrs. Kobards. Jack- 
son retired from the family and went to live at Mans- 
ker's Station. Captain Kobards remained several 
months with his wife, and then went to Kentucky. 
Soon after this affair, Mrs. Eobards went to live at 
Colonel Hays', who married her sister. 

" Some time in the fall of 1*790, there was a report 
afloat that Captain Robards i)i tended to come down 
and take his wife to Kentucky. This created great 
uneasiness both with Mrs. Donelson and hei- daughter, 
the latter of whom was much distressed, being con- 
vinced after two fair trials, as she said, that it would 
1)0 impossible to live with Captain Robards ; and of 
this opinion was I, with all those I conversed with, who 
were acquainted with the circumstances. During the 
winter of 1791, Mrs. Donelson told me of her daugh- 
ter's intention to go down the river to Natchez, to 



222 IIACIIEL ,TA0KSO"N-. 

Bonie of tlieir friends, in order to keep out of tlie way 
of Captain llobards, as she said lie had threatened to 
haunt her. Knowing, as I did. Captain E-obards' un- 
happy disposition, and his temper growing out of it, I 
thouglit she was right to keep out of tlic way, though 
I do not believe that I so expressed myself to the old 
lady or to any other person. 

" The whole affair gave Jackson great uneasiness. 
In his singularly delicate sense of honor, arid in what 
I thought his chivalrous conceptions of the female sex, 
it occurred to me that he was distinguishable from 
every other person with whom I was acquainted. 
About the time of Mrs. Donelson's communication to 
me respecting her daughter's intention of going to 
Natchez, I perceived in Jackson symptoms of more 
than usual concern. Wishing to ascertain the cause, 
he frankly told me that he was the most unhappy of 
men, in having innocently and unintentionally been the 
cause of the loss of peace and happiness of Mrs. 
Kobards, whom he believed to be a fine woman. It 
was not long after this before he communicated to me 
his intention of going to Natchez with Colonel Stark, 
with whom Mrs. Robards was to descend the river, 
saying that she had no fiiend or relation that would 
go with her, or assist in preventing Stark and his 
family and Mrs. Robards from being massacred by the 
Indians, then in a state of war and exceedingly trouble- 
some. Accordingly, Jackson, in comjiany with Mrs. 
Kobards and Colonel Stark, a venerable and highly 
esteemed old man, and friend of Mrs. Robards, went 
down the river from Nashville to Natchez, in the win- 



A IJJVOJICE AND MARRIAGE. 223 

ter or early spi'ing of 1791. It was not, hoAvever 
without the urgent entreaties of Colonel Stai-k, who 
want(!(l protection from the Indians, that Jackson con 
sented to accompany them. 

"Previously to Jackson's starting, he committed all 
bis law business to me, at the same time assuring me 
that as soon as he should see Col. Stark and his family 
and Mrs. Robards situated with their friends, he would 
return and resume his practice. He descended the 
river, returned from Natchez to Nashville, and was at 
the Superior Court, in the latter place, in May. 1791, 
attending to his business as a lawyer and solicitor- 
general for the government. Shortly after this time, 
we were informed that a divorce had been granted by 
the Legislature of Virginia. 

*' The divorce was understood, by tlie people of this 
country to have been granted in the winter of 1790- 
1791. I was in Kentucky in the summer of 1791, 
remained at old Mrs. Roljards', my former place of 
residence, a part of the time, and never understood 
otherwise than that Captain llobards' divorce was 
final, until the latter part of the year 1793. In the 
summer of 1791, General Jackson went to Natchez, 
and, I understood, married Mrs. Kobards, then be- 
lieved to be freed from Captain Robards, by the di- 
vorce in the winter of 1790-1791. They returned to 
Nashville, settled in the neighborhood of the city, 
where tliey have lived ever since, esteemed and l)eloved 
by all classes. 

" About the month of December, 1793, after Gen- 
eral Jackson and myself had started to Jonesborough, 



224 EACIIEL JACKSON. 

in East Tennessee, wliere we practised law, 1 learned 
for the first time that Captain Robards had applied to 
Mercer Court, in Kentucky, for a divorce, which had 
then recently bcon granted ; and that the Legislature 
had not absolutely granted a divorce, but left it for the 
Court to do. I need not express my surprise, on learn- 
ing that the act of the Virginia Legislature had not 
divorced Captain Robards. I informed General Jack- 
son of this, who was equally surprised; and during 
oiu' conversation, I suggested the propriety of his pro- 
curing a license on his return home, and having the 
marriage ceremony again performed, so as to prevent 
all future cavilling on the subject. 

" To this suggestion, he replied that he had long 
since been married, on the belief that a divorce had 
been obtained, which \vas the understanding of every 
person in the country ; nor was it without difficulty 
he could be induced to believe otherwise. 

" On our return home from Jonesborough, in Janu- 
ary, 1794, to Nashville, a license was obtained, and 
the marriage ceremony again performed. 

"The slowness and inaccuracy with which informa- 
tion was obtained in Tennessee at that time, will not 
be surprising Avhen we consider its insulated and dan- 
gerous situation, surrounded on every side by the wil- 
derness, and by hostile Indians, and that there was no 
mail established until about 1797." 

Subsequent events proved this marriage to be one 
of the very happiest that was ever formed. A roman- 
tic person would say that it was made in Heaven, and 
certainly it had the re([uisites of a heavenly union. 



A HAPPY UNION. 225 

Notliing could exceed tlie admiration, and love, and 
even deference of General Jackson for his wife. Her 
wisli to liim was law. It was a blessed orderino; of 
Providence tliat this kind, good heart shouhl find at 
last, after so many trouljles, a tcndcir and true friend 
and. protector, understanding her perfectly, and loving 
her entu'ely. 

Mrs. Jackson was a noble woman, and abundantly 
l)lessed with superior sense. Slie was a good manager, 
a kind mistress, always directing tlie servants, and 
taking care of the estate in her husband's frequent 
absences, and withal a generous and hospitable neigh- 
bor. 

She had a great many nieces and nephews, some 
of whom were nearly all the time staying with her. 
She was very lively in her manners, well knowing how 
to tell stories, and amuse the young j)eople of the 
neighborhood, who were much attached to her, all 
calling her affectionately Aunt llachel, as her nieces 
and nephews did. 

Al)out the year 1804, General Jackson fixed his 
residence upon a superb estate of a thousand acres, 
twelve miles from Nashville, which he named the Her- 
mitage. They lived at first in an ordinary frame 
building, sufficiently comfortable, but rather small. 
No lack of space in the house, however, could contract 
the liberal and hospitable spirit of the master and mis- 
tress of the Hermitage. When the Man^uis de La- 
fayette visited Nashville on his return to America, 
there was an entertainment given in his honor at the 
Hej'mitage, to which many ladies and gentlemen werci 



226 RACHEL JACKSON". 

invited. At tliis banquet, and during liis stay in Nash 
ville, General Lafayette was particularly respectful and 
attentive to Mrs. Jackson; and after his return to 
France, he never failed, in writing to General Jackson, 
to send her his compliments. 

But the General was the " prince of hospitality," 
as one of his neighbors said, " not because he enter- 
tained a great many people, but because the poor 
belated pedlar was as welcome as the President of the 
United States, and made so much at his ease that he 
felt as though he had got home." 

One who often visited General Jackson's house, 
wrote that " it was the resort of friends and acquaint- 
ances, and of all strangers visiting tlie state ; and the 
more agreeable to all fi'om the perfect conformity of 
Mrs. Jackson's character to his own. She had the 
General's own warm heart, frank manners, and hospit- 
able temj^er, and no two persons could have been het- 
ter suited to each other, lived more happily together, 
or made a house more attractive to visitors. She was 
always doing kind things in the kindest manner. No 
bashful youth or plain old man, whose modesty set 
them down at the lower end of the table, could escape 
her cordial attention any more than the titled gentle- 
men at her right and left." 

She had no children of her own, and it was a 
source of regret to both ; but a fortunate circumstance 
threw a little child across her pathway, and she gladly 
took the babe to her home and heart. Her brother 
liad twin b03^s born to him, and wishing to help 
her sister in a care which was so great, took one of 



THE CHILD AND LAMB. 227 

tliein to tlie Hermitage wlieu it was but a few days* 
old. 

The General soon became extremely attached to 
the little guest, and adopted him, giving him his own 
name, and treating him from that time with unremit- 
ting kindness and affection, as if he were indeed his 
only son, A traveler, who arrived at the Hermitage 
one wet, chilly evening in February, says, " I came upon 
General Jackson in the twilight, sitting alone before 
the fire, a lam1) and a child between his knees. See- 
ing me, he called a servant to remove the two inno- 
cents to another room, and said that the child had 
cried because the lamb was out in the cold, and begged 
him to bring it in, which he had done to please the 
child — his adopted son, then not two years old. This 
eon, Andrew Jackson, jr. was the sole heir of the Gen- 
eral's large estate. His widow resides yet at the Her- 
Qiitage, at the request of the State of Tennessee, which 
has lately purchased the place. 

A few days after the battle of New Orleans, Mrs. 
Jackson arrived in that city with a party of Tennes- 
seans, bringing with her the little Andrew, then about 
seven years old. She participated in the attentions 
that were showered upon the General, who showed 
her, himself, the most marked respect and deference. 
The ladies of New Orleans presented her with a valu- 
able and beautiful set of topaz jewelry. In her por- 
trait, at the Hermitage, Mrs. Jackson wears the dress 
which she appeared in at the grand ball given in New 
Orleans, in honor of the General. It is white satin, 
ornamented with lace, and jewelry of pearls. This 



228 RACHEL JACKSON. 

portrait was painted by Earl, an artist who married a 
niece of Mrs. Jackson's and resided many years in 
General Jackson's family. 

In 1816 Mrs. Jackson joined the cliiirch, while at- 
tending the ministry of the Rev. Gideon Blackburn, a 
Presbyterian divine, whom she ever after regarded with 
the deepest veneration. To gratify her, General Jack- 
son built a little church on the estate, a quarter of a 
mile from the house. It was plain and simple, and 
small, but very dear to Mrs. Jackson, who spent in it 
many happy hours. It was a blessing to the neighbors, 
who found it convenient and pleasant to send their 
children to Sunday school, and to attend church them 
selves when it was impossible to go farther. 

A new house was built during the summer of 1819. 
It was erected expressly for Mrs. Jackson, and every 
thing regarding it was done exactly in accordance with 
her wishes. Major Lewis, who visited the site, recom- 
mended a more elevated position to the General. " No, 
Major," said he, " Mrs. Jackson chose this spot, and she 
shall have her wish. I am going to build this house 
for her ; I don't expect to live in it myself." He was 
at the time very feeble and exhausted from the severe 
illness succeeding his return from the Seminole war, 
and was, as he supposed, not long for this world. 

The house is situated in a level place, rather lower 
than the avenue which leads to it, and from the gate 
only glimpses of it can be obtained. The surrounding 
country is exceedingly beautiful. The long stately 
av^enue of .cedars ends in an oval-shaped lawn in which 
stands the mansion. Both in front and in the rear of 



THE HERMITAGE. 229 

the house, there are grand double piazzas, with stone 
floors supported by large fluted columns, round which 
cling and bloom beautiful rose vines. Under the shade 
of these drooping tendrils. General Jackson and his 
cherished wife were wont to saunter, occasionally stop- 
ping to more distinctly hear the rich notes of the 
southern songsters, or to catch the mournful cry of the 
ring-dove in the distant cotton field. 

The walls of the hall are cohered with scenes from 
Telemachus, which was formerly so fashionable for pa- 
pering. The fairy beauty of Calypso's enchanted 
island, with its sparkling fountains, its flowery groves, 
its elegant pillared palaces, its dancing nymphs, its 
altars of incense and votive wreaths, its graceful groups 
of statues on the sea-shore, and above all, its lovely 
queen and the noble youth and his wise Mentor, lend 
an air of interest and beauty to this cool hall, which is 
delightful. There is hanging here a handsome portrait 
of Columbus. The furniture is old-fashioned and dig- 
nified, and there are several busts of distinguished men. 
That of General Jackson was taken by Mr. Persico, 
made in Italy and presented to the General. 

The parlors are large, pleasant rooms, in which 
there are many curiosities, and various odd and ex- 
quisite pieces of furniture that were presented at dif- 
ferent times to General Jackson. The house is spacious 
and handsome. When first built, it was the most ele- 
gant one in all the country around. It was a gift of 
love from the General to his beloved wife, when he 
did not expect to survive her ; and it was arranged to 
suit her slightest wish, that nothing might be wanting 



230 RACHEL JACKSON. 

to her satisfaction, wliicli it was possibly in Lis power 
to provide. The extensive and carefully ordered gar 
den was tended and overlooked by her, and contains a 
great many sweet shrubs and evergreens and beautiful 
flowers, a large numl;)er of which she planted herself. 

In 1821 General Jackson was appointed Governor 
of Florida, and left the Hermitage the 18th of April, 
accompanied by Mrs. Jackson and the "two An- 
drews," the adopted son and nephew — ^Andrew Jack- 
son Donelson.* The following September she wrote 

* After General Jnckson landed at Blakoly, near Mobile, he proceeded 
up the river about forty miles, to a military ])Ost under the command of 
Colonel Brook, and called " Montpelier." Here he was detained some 
days, during which time he learned that the Indian Chief " Weatherford," 
who comaiandod at the des;riietiou and nias'^acro of Fort Minims, was 
living but a few miles otf. General Jacksmi remembered tlie brave con- 
duet of the Oliief at the battle of " Horse Shoe," where, losing the most 
of his warriors, he surrendered alone, remarking, that "he had fouglit as 
long as he had men, and would fight longer if he could ;" t and at his sug- 
gestion Colonel Brook mvited the Chief to dinner the following day. The 
next day his appearance attracted much attention at the fort, and when 
dinner was announced, General Jackson escorted him to the presence of 
the ladies, introducing liim to Mrs. Jackson as the Oliief of the. Creek 
Indians and the bravest of his tribe. She smilingly welcomed him and 
said, " sTie was ])leased to meet him at the festive board, and hoped that 
the strife of war was ended forever." "I looked up," lie said, "and found 
all eyes upon me, bat I conld not speak a word. I found something 
choked tne, and I wished I was dead or at home." Colonel ih-ook came 
to his rescue by replying to Mrs. Jackson, and the diinier passed otf pleas- 
antly, but the Chief related the occurrence a few years later, and said, 
''ho was never caught in such quarters again." 

t "Weatherford's words were, " I am in your power. Do with me 
what you please. I have done the white peojjle all the harm I could. I 
fought them, and fought them bravely. There was a time when I had a 
choice; I have none now ; oven hope is dead. Once I could animate my 
warriors ; but I cannot animate the dead. They can no longer hear my 
voice ; their bones are at Talhishatchos, Talladega, Emuefaw and To-h> 
pe-ka." 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 231 

to a fi'ieiid at Nashville : " The General, I think, if? 
the most anxious man to get home I ever saw. He 
calls it a wild-c^oose chase, his coinini*; here. He tells 
me to say to you and Captain Kingsley, that in the 
multiplicity of business, if he had or could have seen 
any advantages for your better prospects, he would 
have written Captain Kingsley long since. You are 
in the best country in America. Oh, how has this 
place been overrated. We have had a great many 
deaths ; still I know it is a healthy climate. Amongst 
many disadvantages, it has few advantages.' I pity 
Mr. J., he will have so much fixtigue. Not one minis- 
ter of the gospel has come to this place yet ; no, not 
one ; but we have a prayer meeting every Sabbath. 
The house is crowded so that there is not room for 
them. Sincere prayers are constantly sent up to the 
Hearer of prayer foi* a faithful minister. Oli, what a 
revivinoj-, refreshins: scene it would be to the Christians, 
though few in number. The non-professors desire it. 
Blessed be God, he has a few even here that are bold 
in declaring their faith in Christ. You named, my 
dear friend, my going to the theatre. I went once, 
and then with much reluctance. I felt so little interest 
in it, however, I shall not take up much time in apolo- 
gizing. My situation is a peculiar one at this time. 
I trust in the Lord my dear child, Andrew, reached 
home in safety. I think you all must feel a great deal 
for me, knowing how my very heart recoiled at the 
idea of what I had to encounter. Many have l)een 
disappointed. I have not. I saw it as plain as I now 
do when it is passing. Oh Lord, forgive, if thy will, 



232 KACIIEL JACKSON. 

all those my enemies that had an agency in the matter 
Many wander about like lost sheep ; all have been dis- 
appointed in offices. Cr.ige has a constable's place of 
no value. The President made all the appointments 
and sent them from the City of Washington." 

General Jackson, in a letter to Captain John Don- 
elson, Sr., speaks thus of his wife : 

" I hope we will be able to leave here by the 1st 
of October for home. Mrs. Jackson's health is not 
good, and I am determined to travel with her as early 
as my business and her health will permit, even if 1 
should be compelled to come back to settle my busi- 
ness and turn over the government to my successor. I 
am determined to resign my office the moment Congress 
meets, and live near you the balance of my life. * * 
Before this reaches you, Colonel Butler and our little 
son will be with you, I hope. I trust you will extend 
your care over him until we ai-e where he lias gone. 
You may be sure your sister will not remain long be- 
hind. We all enjoy tolerable health at present, but I 
am wearied with, business and this hot weather." 

Mrs. Jackson sighed foi* her quiet home and her 
little churcli, during her stay in Florida. Pensacola 
was so different, and the people so entirel}' divided in all 
their tastes and pursuits from the devout Christian ma- 
tron, that she could not be satisfied. " Three Sabbaths," 
she says, "I spent in this house before the country was 
in possession under American government. The Sab- 
bath profanely kept, a great deal of noise and swear- 
ing in the streets; shops kept open, trade going on 1 
think more than on any other day. They were so bois- 



LIFE IN FLOlilDA. 233 

terous on that day I sent Major Stanton to say to tbera 
tliat the approaching Sunday would be differently 
kept. And must I say, tlie worst people liere are 
the outcast Americans and negroes ! Yesterday I 
had the happiness of witnessing, the truth of what 
I had said. Great order was observed; the doors 
kept sliut ; the gambling houses demolished ; fid- 
dling and dancing not heard any more on the Lord's 
day ; cursing not to be heard. 

Pensacola is a perfect plain : the laud nearly as 
white as flour, yet productive of fine peaches, oranges 
in abundance, grapes, figs, pomegranates, &c. Fine 
flowers grow spontaneously, for they have neglected the 
gardens expecting a change of government. The 
town is immediately on the l)ay. The most beautiful 
water prospect I ever saw ; and from 10 o'clock in the 
morning until 10 at niglit we have the finest sea-breeze. 
There is something in it so exhilarating, so pure, so 
wholesome, it enlivens the whole system. All the 
houses look in ruins, old as time. Many squares of 
the town appear grown over with the thickest shrubs, 
weeping-willows, and the Pride of China : all look neg- 
lected. The inhal.dtants all speak Spanish and French. 
Some speak four or five languages. Such a mixed mul- 
'titude you nor any of us ever had an idea of. There 
are fewer white people far than any other, mixed with 
all nations under the canopy of heaven, almost in na- 
ture''s darkness." 

On the 3d of November, General and Mrs. Jack- 
son arrived at the Hermitage, delighted to be again at 
that home within whose doors the angels. Peace and 



234 EACHEL JACKSON. 

Happiness awaited tlieir return, and sat with folded 
wings. 

General Jackson set out for Washington, accompa- 
nied by his wife, in 1824, going all the way in their 
own coach and four; and being twenty-eight days on 
the journey. In a letter to a friend in Nashville, she 
says, " We are boarding in the same house with the 
nation's guest. General Lafayette. When we first 
came to this house, General Jackson said he would go 
and pay the Marquis the first visit. Both having the 
same desire, and at the same time, they met on the entry 
of the stairs. It was truly interesting. At Charleston, 
General Jackson saw him on the field of battle; the 
one a boy of twelve, the Marquis, twenty- three." 

A great many persons paid their respects to Mrs. 
Jackson. She says, " there are not less than from fifty 
to a hundred persons calling in one day." While 
wondering at " the extravagance of the people in 
dressing and running to parties," she speaks with en- 
thusiasm of the churches and the able ministers. 

Soon after their return home, Mrs. Jackson''s health 
began to decline, and in the succeeding years of Gen- 
eral Jackson's campaign for the presidency, it contin- 
ued delicate. She went with the General to New Or- 
leans, in the beginning of the year 1828, and witnessed 
his splendid reception there. " She was waited on by 
Mrs. Marigny and other ladies, the moment she landed 
from the Pocahontas, and conducted to Mr. Marigny's 
house, where refreshments had been prepared, and 
where she received the salutations of a large and bril- 
liant circle. The festivities continued four days, at the 



FESTIVITIES AT NEW ORLEAlSrS. 235 

end of which, the General and Mrs. Jackson and their 
friends reembarked on board the . Pocahontas and re- 
turned homeward." 

Mrs. Jackson's health continued to fail, and no ex« 
cursions or remedies were found availing. She had 
suffered from an affection of the heart; a disease which," 
increased and heightened l)y every undue excitement, 
was, in her case, exposed to the most alarming ex- 
tremes and continually liable to aggravation. The 
painful paragraphs in regard to her character with 
which the papers of the country abounded, wounded 
and grieved her sorely. The circumstances of her 
marriage, so easily misconstrued and so lamentably mis- 
understood by many whom distance and meagre infor- 
mation had kept in ignorance, were used by the poli- 
tical enemies of General Jackson as lawful weapons 
wherewith they might assail his fair fame and obstruct 
his rapid progress to the highest place in the land. 
Considered in all its bearings, there is not in the whole 
world a position more honorable, more important, or 
more responsible, than that of the President of the 
United States. Well were it needful to choose with, 
circumspection the Chief Magistrate of a country so 
vast, of a people so intelligent and brave, and possess- 
ing the elements of such greatness and glory ; who 
holds in his grasp such a multitude of destinies ; and 
^ ho is able, by his decisions, to continue the sunshine 
of prosperity, or to bring the bitter blasts of adver- 
sity and discord. Hence the ardor and even the des- 
])eration of the struggles for victory in each presiden- 
tial campaign. The same enthusiasm which actuated 



236 IIACHEL JACKSON. 

the friends of General Jackson, actuated also his ene* 
inies ; and nothing could exceed the earnestness and 
rancor with wliich tliey attacked him. Not content 
with reviling liim, they must needs drag before the 
public the long-forgotten circumstances of his mar- 
riage, and wrest them to suit their unworthy purposes. 
The kind heart of Mrs. Jackson, though wrung with 
mortification and grief, prompted no utterance of im- 
patience. She said very little, but was often found in 
tears. Meanwhile, her health continued to decline. 
It was too hard to bear that he to whom she had de- 
voted the aifections and energies of her long life, 
should be taunted, for her sake ; that he should, for 
her sake, be considered unworthy of the trust of that na- 
tion for whose defence and honor he had undei'goue 
unnumbered fatigues and conflicts and perils. This si- 
lent suifering told upon her spirits, but anxiety to 
know the event sustained her. 

When the news arrived of General Jackson's elec- 
tion to the presidency, it was received with rejoicings 
and hilarity in Nashville as everywhere else, but with 
calmness by him and her who were so highly honored. 
Her gratification must have been too deep and heart- 
felt to be expressed with noise and mirth. Despite 
the calumnies which their enemies had heaped upon 
her and the General, the nation had bestowed upon 
him its highest gift ; and had confided, for a time, the 
keeping of its honor and well-being into his hands. 
The sorrows through which she had passed, those 
clouds that had hung over her thorny way, had been 
dispersed by the favorhig wind of truth, and the bright 



CALUMNIES THAT BROKE IIER HEART. 287 

rays of peace shone upon her heart. But she was not 
dazzled by the new prospects opening before her 
The splendors and gayeties of a life in the White House 
could offer her no attractions. Her domestic and sim- 
ple tastes found more pleasure in her own home and 
family-circle at the beloved Hermitage. "For Mr. 
Jackson's sake," said she, " I am glad ; for my own part, 
I never wished it." She seemed to regret the necessity 
of a residence in Washington, and remarked to a friend 
with an expression of the utmost sincerity, " I assure 
you that I would rather l)e a door-keeper in the house 
of my God, than to live in that Palace in Washington." 

Mrs. Jackson always purchased all the clothing and 
liousehold articles, both for her own and the servants' 
use. Desiring to arrange every thing comfortable dur- 
ing: tlie winter, for she knew that General Jackson 
would have many friends at the Hermitage, she made 
frequent visits to Nashville, and on one occasion heard 
the thoughtless remarks of persons who probably for- 
got a moment aftcirward the words which broke the 
heart of their victim. It was her custom usually to 
go to one of her most intimate friends on reaching the 
city, and have the horses and carriage put in the sta- 
ble, and then go out shopping ; but on this occasion, 
she went early in her cumbrous coach, and as she had 
many places to visit, determined to send the diiver to 
a livery stable and meet it in the afternoon at "he 
Nashville Inn, then the principal hotel in the city. 

Weary and exhausted after a tedious day's sli^p- 
])ing, she went at the appointed hour to the parlor of 
the hotel, and while waiting there, she heard her name 



238 JRACHEL JACKSON". 

called in the adjoining room. It was impossible for 
lier not to bear, and there she sat, pale and excited, 
listening to a repetition of calumnies which political 
strife had magnified and promulgated. The bare 
truthful outlines of her early unfortunate marriage 
were given, but so interwoven with false misrepresen- 
tations, that she could hardly believe herself the sub- 
ject of remark. All she did hear was never known, 
but on her death-bed she told the circumstance to her 
husband, and then he understood the cause of her vio- 
lent attack. He had tried to keep every paragraph 
and abusive line out of her sight, and hoped that now, 
after the election was decided, this unhappy subject 
of " her marriage before a divorce was granted," would 
be dropped forever. She had acted as she thought 
was the best, and indeed, in every act of her life she 
discovered the fine sense she displayed in her conduct 
towards her first husband. But the malicious envy of 
people who could not bear her elevation, caught at 
every straw to revile her pure and blameless life. Had 
she lived unhappily with General Jackson, there might 
have been some excuse for considering her a weak 
woman ; l:)ut her long, happy and beautiful existence as 
his wife, was a convincing proof of her affectionate 
nature, and religious, high-minded soul. The fatal 
error of her youth, in marrying a man her intellectual 
and moral inferior, was more than atoned for in the 
miserable years she spent as his unappreciated wife. 
She was sensitive and refined, and her nature revolted 
at his coarseness. She had acted rashly in mariying 
him, but she was loth to part with him. Was she 



MAllEIAGE AND DIVOECE. 239 

to blame that she did not know his character thor- 
oughly before her marriage? The sigh that heaves 
from the hearts of thousands of women as they recall 
a similar experience attests her innocence. Was she 
to blame for iDarrying again, when she aud every one 
who knew her believed her free ? He had. never pi'o- 
vided a home for her, she had always been compelled 
to live either wdth her mother or his, thereby sealing 
her doom, for no wife, however kind her husband may 
be, can be as happy in the home of her parents as she 
could in one of her own, be it ever so lowly. Captain 
Robards never tried to make her comfortable or con- 
tented, but augmented the sorrows of her young heart 
by a course of conduct revolting in even the most de- 
graded of men, and inexcusable in him, since he was 
of a respectable family, and supposed to be somewhat 
cultivated. 

But her offence was the acceptance of a protector 
and friend, who would shield her from poverty and 
unhappiness, and add to her life, what she had never 
known, a husband and a home. The bonds of a civil 
marriage had been dissolved, not by her efforts, but by 
her ungenerous, narrow-minded husband, and she had 
become the wife of a man eminently suited to her. 
With all the bitter experience of her short married 
life, she trustingly confided her happiness into the 
keeping of one who never betrayed it, and who made 
her existence a continued source of joy. In the high- 
er courts, in her conscience, but one marriage tie was 
recognized, and but one possessed the entire affection 
of her young and chastened heart. 



240 KACIIEL JACKSON". 

It Lad l>een arranged that a grand dinner and 
ball should be given on tlie 23d of December, to 
General and Mrs. Jackson, that day being tlie anni- 
versary of tlie niglit-l.)attle belov/ New Orleans ; a day 
I'endered celebrated in the annals of his . country by 
his own heroic achievements. 

A week previous to this intended festival, and a 
few days after her visit to Nashville, Mrs. Jackson was 
seized with a spasmodic affection of the muscles of the 
chest and left shoulder, attended with an irregular 
action of the heart, and great anxiety of countenance. 
The suspense and uneasiness occasioned by the late 
political strife being at an end, and the uncertainty of 
the event no longer torturing her, she could bear up 
no farther. One of the physicians in attendance upon 
her, gives the following minute and interesting ac- 
count : 

" Being hastily sent for, I lost no time in rendering 
her all the assistance in my 2:)ower. Finding she had 
been bled before my arrival, without any manifest 
abatement of the symptoms, I repeated the operation, 
which was again had recourse to in the evening, on 
the arrival of Dr. Hogg, an eminent physician of 
Nashville, who had been sent for simultaneously with 
myself. These successive bleedings, together with 
other treatment, produced great relief, and an entire 
subsidence of all the alarming symptoms. The three 
iollowing days she continued to improve; she was 
cheerful, and could sit in her chair and converse with 
her friends. On Monday night, however, she sat up 
too long, caught cold, and had slight symptoms of 



DEATH AT TILE HERMITAGE. 241 

pleurisy. These soon yielded to the i')roper remedies 
a profuse j^erspiration ensued, whicli it was thought 
prop(3r to encourage with mild, diluent drinks ; every 
thing promised a favorable issue. In this situation, 
after Dr. Hogg and myself had retired to an adjoining 
room, our patient unfortunately got up twice and sat 
by tlie fire. The perspiration became suddeidy checked. 
She cried out, ' I am fainting,' was j)laced in bed, and 
in a moment afterwards she was a lifeless corpse ! 

" All our efforts for her restoration were vain and 
fruitless. No blood could be obtained, either from the 
arm or the temporal artery. Sensibility had ceased, 
life had departed ; and her meek and c[uiet spirit 
sought that rest with her God and her Redeemer, 
which a cruel world refused to grant. 

" From a careful review of the case, there seems to 
be no doubt but that there was a sudden reflux of the 
blood from the surface and the extremities, u23on the 
heart and other organs, producing an engorgement 
and consequent spasm of that important viscus. That 
her death is to be attributed to this cause, rather than 
to an effusion of tlie braii], seems to be inferalde from 
the fact of the total and instantaneous cessation of the 
functioDs of the heart. Not a pulsation could be per- 
ceived ; her lungs labored a minute or two, and then 
ceased. 

" How shall I describe the agony — the heart-rending 

agony — of the venerable jiartner of her bosom ? He 

liad, in compliance with our earnest entreaties, seconded 

by those of his wife, left her chamber, which he could 

seldom be persuaded to do, and had lain down in an 
11 



242 RACHEL JACKSON. 

adjoining room, to seek repose for his harassed mind 
and l)ody. A few minutes only had elapsed, when we 
were hastily summoned to her chamber; and the Gen- 
eral, in a moment, followed ns. But he was only in 
time to witness the last convulsive effort of expiring 
nature. Then it was that all the feelings of the de- 
voted husband burst forth. His breast heaved, and 
his soul seemed to struggle with a load too oppressive 
for frail humanity. Nor was he the only mourner on 
this melancholy occasion. A numerous train of do- 
mestics crowded around the bed of their beloved mis- 
tress, and filled the room with their piercing cries. 
They could not bring their minds to a belief of the 
painful reality that their mistress and friend, for such 
indeed she was, lay before them a lifeless corj^se. 
' Oh ! is there no hope ? ' was their agonizing question ; 
and vainly would they flatter themselves with the be- 
lief, that perhaps ' she was only fainting.' 

" The distressing event spread with the rapidity of 
the wind ; and neighbors and relatives thronged the 
house from midnight until late the following morning. 
Soon the painful tidings reached Nasliville, twelve 
miles distant, and a fresh concourse of fiiends pressed 
forward to show their respect for the dead and to 
mourn with the livinfj-/' 

Eai'ly on the morning of the 23d December, while 
active preparations for the expected banquet were go- 
ing on, and many bright eyes and gay hearts were al- 
ready, in anticipation, beginning the pleasures of the 
day, the afflicting news reached the city, of the Pi'esi- 
ilent's unlooked-for and teiTible bereavement. This 



FESTIVITIES GIVE PLACE TO MOURNING. 243 

sad paragrapli appeai'ed in the papers and cast a gloom 
ovei- the breakfast-tables where so many had assem- 
bled in joy. " In the midst of preparations for festi- 
vity and mirth, the knell of death is heard, and on 
the very day which it was arranged and expected that 
our town should be a scene of general rejoicing, we 
are suddenly checked in our career, and are called on to 
array ourselves in garments of solemnity and woe. 
Mrs. Rachel Jackson, wife of General Andrew Jackson, 
President elect of the United States, died last night, 
at the Hermitage, in this vicinity. The intelligence 
of this awful and unlooked-for event has created a 
shock in our community almost unparalleled. It was 
known, a few days since, that Mrs. Jackson was vio- 
lently attacked by disease ; which, however, was sup- 
posed to have been checked, so as to afford a prospect 
of immediate restoration to health. This day, b(nng 
the anniversary of an interesting and important event 
in the last war, was appropriately selected to testify the 
respect and affection of his fellow-citizens and neigh- 
bors to the man who was so soon to leave his sweet 
domestic I'etirement, to assume the responsibilities and 
discharge the important duties of Chief Magistrate of 
the nation. The preparations were already made ; the 
table was well-nigh spi'ead, at which all was expected to 
be hilarity and joy, and our citizens had sallied forth on 
the happy morning with spirits light and buoyant, and 
countenances glowing with animation and hope,- — 
when suddenly the scene is changed, congratulations 
are converted into expressions of condolence, tears are 
substituted for smiles, and sincere and general mourn- 



244 EACHEL JACKSON. 

ing pervades a ooninmnity where, but a luoineiit be- 
fore, universal happiness and public rejoicing prevailed. 
But we have neither time nor room, at jHvsent, to in- 
dulge in further reileetions on this nielaiielu^ly oeeur- 
rence. Let us submit with resignation and fortitude to 
the decrees, however afflicting, of a just and merciful, 
though mysterious and inscrutable Providence." 

The prepai-ations making for the festivity were im- 
mediately stopped, upon the arrival of the melancholy 
information ; and, in their stead, the committee of ar- 
rangements, to2:ether with the Mayor and Aldermen of 
the city, recommended to the citizens, as an evidence 
of tlieir deep regret and sympathy for the calamity 
which had befallen their honored fellow-citizen, to sus- 
pend for one day the ordinary business of life, which 
was cordially observed. In the course of the morning, 
a card ei^ht inches loui>: and six inches wide, with a 
mourning border one-third of an inch in width, was 
printed, containing the following announcement : 

"The committee appointed by the citizens of 
Nashville to superintend the reception of General 
Jackson on this day, with feelings of deep regret, an- 
nounce to the public that Mrs. Jackson departed this 
life last nio-ht, between the hours of ten and eleven 
o'clock. 

" Respect for the memory of the deceased, and a 
sincere condolence with him on whom this providential 
affliction has fallen, forbid the manifestations of public 
regard intended for the day. 

" In the furthei' consideration of the painful and un- 
expected occasion which has brought them together, 



SEPAKATION AT 'JJIJO JlOL'il OF TKlCMril. 245 

the committee feel that it in due to the exemplary 
virtues and exalted character of the deceased, that 
some public token should be given of the high regard 
entertained towards her while living. Tljey have, 
thei'efoi-e, resolved, 

" That it be respectfully recommended to their 
fellow-citizens of Nashville, in evidence of this feeling, 
to refrain, on to-mon-ow, from the ordinary pursuits 
of life. 

" JosiAii NicHOL, Chainnan. 

"December 23." 

The city authorities also passed suita}>le resolutions, 
the last of wiiich reads as follows : 

" Resolved, That the inhabitants of Nashville are 
respectfully invited to abstain from their ordinary busi- 
ness on to-morrow, as a mark of respect for Mrs. Jackson, 
and that the church bells be tolled from one until two 
o'clock, being the hour of her funeral." 

These proceedings were signed by Felix Robertson, 
Mayor, and attested by E. Dibbrell, Recorder. 

About a fortnight before her death, she remarked 
to a friend, that although she had lived with Mr. Jack- 
son nearly forty years, there had never an unkind word 
passed between them, and the only subject on which 
they ever differed, or where there was the slightest 
opposition, was his acceptance of appointments ^vhen 
conferred upon him ; she being always unwilling for 
him to enter upon public life. Such w^as the woman 
whom (reneral Jackson was called upon to separate 
from, at a moment of all others the most trying. 



240 EACHEL JACKSON. 

Altlioiigli the weather was unfavorable, her friends 
assembled from every point, to pay the last tribute of 
respect to one who could befriend tliem no more. 
Every vehicle in Nashville, and there were more at 
that day than now, in proportion to the population, 
was put in requisition. The road to the Hermitage 
had not been macadamized, and it was, consequently, 
at that season of the year almost impassable ; yet au 
inmiense number of persons attended the funeral. 

When the hour of interment drew near, the Gen- 
eral, who had not left the beloved remains, was in- 
formed that it was time to perform the last sad rites. 
The scene that then ensued is beyond description. 
There was no heart that did not ache, no eye that 
did not weej). Many of the officers present, who had 
shared with the General his difficulties and dangers ; 
who had seen him in the most trying situations ; who 
had eyed him when his gallant soldiers were suffering 
for food to sustain life, and he unable to relieve them ; 
who had witnessed him on the battle-iield, when the 
wounded and the dying were brought before him, and 
every muscle seemed moved, and his very frame ago- 
nized with sorrow ; yet had seen no suffering however 
poignant or excessive, affect the General like this great 
affliction. When he bade his final adieu to the last 
kindi'ed link that bound him to earth, his Roman for- 
titude seemed for a time to be completely overcome. 
It was a soul-rendino* sio;ht to see an old veteran, 
whose head was whitened by the hardships he had 
endured for his country, bending^ over the lifeless form 
of an affectionate wife, whose death was hastened by 



A HALLOWED NAME. 247 

tlie cruelty of those whose rights he had so nobly de* 
fended. By a muscular and almost superhuman effort, 
he endeavored to check the current of his grief; and 
waving his hand to tlie afflicted company, begged them 
to weep no more. " I know," said he, " it is unmanly, 
but these tears were due to her virtues. She shed 
laany for me." But one wisli pervaded the assembly, 
tliat the individuals who had Jiastened this scene by 
their relentless attacks on an unoffending woman, could 
be brought to witness the saddest spectacle that any 
present had ever beheld. 

But they were not there to witness the effects of 
their calumnies. She was dead, and tbey were 
avenged. Ever after that funeral, his opponents com- 
plained that his personal feelings were allowed to gov- 
ern his public acts, and that to be suspected by him 
of havino; believed auj^ht of slander ai]:ainst his wife, 
was the unpardonable crime which he never forgave. 
Brave old Hero ! bow deathless was the feelino- which 
to the latest hour of his life displayed the same 
strength it had ever discovered ! Silent and grave he 
was on the subject, but forgetfulness or indifference did 
not occasion such a course of action, as too many found 
to their sorrow. A dangerous look in his flashing eye 
satisfied any one of the sacred ground, and few braved his 
anger by recalling an unpleasant recollection connected 
with her. The inhumanity of the world robbed him 
of his treasure, and darkened his life, but while he 
lived her name was a hallowed sound breathed in the 
darkened recesses of his bruised and lonely heart, 
which cheered him on to the portals of the tomb 



248 EACHEL JACKSON. 

throiigli which she had passed to immortality. The 
dear remains were interred in a corner of tlie Hermi- 
tage garden; and thither the aifiicted Greneral was 
supported by General Coffee and Major Rutledge. 
Tlie following gentlemen were pall-bearers : — Governor 
Sam Houston, Col. Ephraim H. Foster, Col. George 
Wilson, Gen. Robert Armstrong, Col. Sam. B. Mar- 
shall, Col. Allen, Mr. Solomon Clark, and Major G. 
W. Campbell 

A resident of Nashville, writing to his brother in 
Philadelphia, said: "Such a scene I never wish to wit- 
ness again. I never pitied any person more in my life 
than General Jackson. I never before saw so much 
affliction amono- servants on the death of a mistress. 
Some seemed completely stupefied by the event ; others 
wrung their hands and shrieked aloud. The woman 
that had waited on Mrs. Jackson had to be carried off 
tlie ground. After the funeral, the General came up to 
me and shook my hand. Some of the gentlemen men- 
tioning my name, he again caught my hand, and 
squeezed it three times, but all he could utter was 
' Philadelphia.' I shall never forget his look of grief." 

Through the kindness of Sarah Jackson, the widow 
of General Jackson's adopted son, I am in possession 
of a book compiled by Mr. Earl, under the direction 
of the General himself, entitled in gilt letters on the 
back, " Obituary Notices of Mrs. Jackson." It con- 
tains the funeral card before mentioned ; a great num- 
ber of eulogies taken from the papers of the day ; in- 
numerable paragraphs expressive of respect and sym- 
pathy ; and a syno[)sis of the funeral sermon, in manu' 



TRIBUTE TO HER MEMORY. 249 

script. It was preached by the Reverend William 
Hume, of Nashville, and has never heretofore been 
published. It will be found interesting, not only as 
the funeral discourse of so eminent a lady, but as a 
specimen of a sermon delivered forty years ago, in a 
coimtry so undeveloped as Tennessee was in those 
days. 

'•' The righteous shall be in everlasting remembrance." 

Psalm cxii., 6th verse. 

" These words might be applied to that venerable 
matron, with much propriety, as she gave every rea- 
sonable evidence that she was among the righteous. 
Indeed, as her name is indissolubly connected with 
that of the President of the United States, it shall be 
held in remembrance while the page of history dis- 
plays the memorable actions of General Jackson. The 
words of the Psalmist, however, are applicable to her 
in a much nobler sense. 

" The death of this worthy lady is much deplored, 
not only by her distinguished husband and immediate 
relations, but by a large majority of the people of the 
United States of America. Her character was so well 
known to multitudes who visited the Hermitage, the 
abode of hospitality, that the following remarks will 
readily be acknowledged as true :~ 

"With respect to her religious principles, they 
were such as are held sound by all religious denomina- 
tions that are commonly called evangelical. Convinced 
of the depravity of human nature, as taught in the 
Holy Sciiptures, she relied ou the spirit of God alone, 



250 RACHEL JACKSON. 

to ill iiiniuate, renovate and purify tliat nature that it 
miglit 1)6 qualified for the unspotted society of heaven. 
Believing with the inspired Paul, that by the works 
of the law, no flesh can be justified in the sight of God, 
her de[>endence for eternal life was placed on the 
merits and mediation of Jesus. Fully persuaded that 
the law is holy and the commandment holy, and that 
God will not acquit the sinner from condemnation, in 
a way that will conceal the dignity of His government, 
th ' purity of Hi> nature, the truth of His threatening 
or the glory of his unchangeable justice, she derived 
all her hope of acceptance with God from Him who 
' bore our sins in his own body on the tree ; who suf- 
fered, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to 
God.' 

While, however, her whole dependence for accept- 
ance with God was founded upon the atonement of 
the Son of God, through whom grace reigns unto eter- 
nal life, she knew that this doctrine did not tend to 
immorality. S' e was taught by Paid that holiness is 
always inseparably connected with this dependance on 
the merits of the Saviour, and that every motive to 
holiness arising from interest or gratitude or the pleas- 
ures of religion remains in full force; she therefore 
abounded in good works. Assured by the infallible 
testimony of her Lord and Master, that every branch 
of the true vine, as it derives its verdure, beauty, vigour, 
and sap from the vine is fruitful, she, a genuine branch 
was S(i too. In acts of piety, as adoration, thanksgiv- 
ii.i: and praise, she took delight. Her seat was seldom 
empty in the house of God. Though very often sur- 



IIEK CHARACTER. 251 

rounded with company fi'om every State in the Union, 
neither she noi- her illustrious husband neglected the 
house of God on that account. The tears of genuine 
penitence were often shed by her in the temple of the 
Lord. She had a tender and a feeling heart, and some- 
times I have seen the tears bedewing her cheeks while 
she was speaking of the dangerous condition of those 
around her, who seemed to be entirely careless about a 
future state. Indeed, her devotional spirit was mani- 
fest in all her conduct. She meditated on the wonders 
of redeeming love with much delight, as the source of 
her present joy and future hope of glory. Indeed, 
her piety was acknowledged by all who knew her, as 
it manifested itself by the most unequivocal proofs ; a 
reverential aw^e, a su])reme love and profound venera- 
tion for the incomparable excellences of God, and a 
cordial gratitude to Him as the source of all her mer- 
cies. Her love to God was displayed by an unusual 
obedience to His commands and by an humble submis 
sion to His providence. 

" As a wife, connected with one who stood so high 
in the estimation of his fellows-citizens, she was, as a 
Christian, exposed to some peculiar temptations; for 
who can resist the fascinations of honor and of power? 
While she rejoiced in the honor of a nation of freemen 
spontaneously given to a husband so dear to her heart, 
yet no unbecoming elation of mind, no haughtiness, 
no overbearing conduct, could ever be seen, even by an 
inimical eye, in this amiable lady. She was adorned 
with the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, in an 
eminent degree. Esteem and affecliou were so mixed 



252 KAOIIKL JACKSON-. 

in her bosom for her husband, that her respectful be* 
havior to him, in her house and among her comiectious 
and acquaintances, struck every beliolder as the soft 
iin])ulse of the sweetness of her disposition ; so tliat 
by lier kindness and affability, her husband was more 
hap])y in liis own family than in the midst of liis tri- 
umplis. In consequence of her amiable manners, his 
own house was the chief place of his enjoyment. 

•'The tears and lamentations of the servants are 
proofs of the most unequivocal kind of her excellence 
as the mistress of her household. Never did children 
seem to mourn more sincerely for a mother than the 
household servants lament for her. Tlie cordial re- 
gard of her servants may well be attributed to the 
g'entleness of her commands, the calmness of her tcm- 
j)er, and her tenderness in treating them in health .and 
in sickness. She was, indeed, a mother to her family. 

" The widow and the orphan will long lament the 
death of Mrs. Jackson. In the circle of the widows 
and orphans her benevolence accompanied with the 
most substantial acts of beneficence, shone with dis- 
tinguished sidendor. To her the words of Job may be 
properly applied: 'When the ear heard her, then it 
blessed her ; and when the eye saw her, it gave wit- 
ness to her, because she delivered the poor that cried, 
and the fatlierless, and him that had none to help him. 
The blessing of him that was ready to perish came 
upon her, and she caused the widow's heart to sing for 
joy. She put on righteousness, and it clothed her. 
Her judgment was a lobe and a diadem. She was 
ey».'S to the l)lind, and I'eet to the lame, and a mother 



MEEK AND LOWLY OF IIIOAUT. 253 

to tlie poor."* Blest witli iiillueuce, slio liud ;i lunirt to 
feel and a hand to relieve tlie poor and the needy. 
She vkiwcnl tlie ])onnties of Providence not only to 
refresli herself and her family, hut as designed by her 
Benetactor to ilow in channels leadhig to the doors of 
those who were perishing of tliirst, that they, also, 
might quaff and be satisfied. 

"Some indeed, during the presidential struggle, 
with unfeeling hearts and unjustirial)le motives, exerted 
all their powers to throw her numerous virtues into 
the shade. It was, no doubt, the intention of the de- 
famers to arouse the indignation of her husband that 
he might perpetrate some act to prevent his elevation 
to that high station to which tlie American people re- 
solved that he should be raised. Under this cruel 
treatment Mrs. Jackson displayed the temper of a dis- 
ci^^le of Ilim who was meek and lowly of heart. Her 
meekness was conspicuous under all the injuries and 
provocations whicli were designed to provoke and ex- 
asperate her. Seldom, indeed, has the busy tongue of 
slander and detraction been more gratuitously and 
basely employed ; never was it put to silence with more 
helplessness and confusion than in the case of this 
amiable and pious lady. Influenced by the religion 
that she professed, she restrained all immoderate sallies 
of passion and harsh language on that trying occasion. 
She felt, indeed, the injustice of the warfare. Her 
compassionate heart was wrung with sorrow. Her 
tears flowed, but there was no malevolence in her 
bosom. She could have received no pleasure in giving 
pain to her detractors. Confiding in (Jod, that lie 



254 KACIIEL JACKSON. 

would bring fortli lier rigliteousuess as the liglit, ana 
her salvation as a lamp that burneth, she was not disap- 
pointed. 

"She was permitted to live until the people of 
America, by their unbiassed suffrage, asserted their full 
conviction of her innocence in a manner calculated to 
shame and confound the most furious and unprincipled 
of her defamers. Yes, she lived to see every cloud of 
calumny blown away by the united breath of the 
Anici-ican people ; and found herself and her beloved 
husband in the enjoyment of an unclouded sky, fa- 
voured with the smiles and the esteem of a people un- 
influenced by detractors and qualified to form their 
own 0})inions. 

" While we cordially sympathize with the President 
of the United States, in the irreparable loss he has sus- 
tained in the death of his amiable lady, whom he 
deemed so worthy, as he said, of our tears ; we, from 
our long acquaintance with Mrs. Jackson, and our many 
opportunities of seeing her virtues displayed, cannot 
douV)t but that she now dwells in the mansions of 
glory in company with the ransomed of the Lord, sing- 
ing the praises of that Saviour whom she loved and 
served while she was a pilgrim on earth. In heaven, 
she drinks of the pure stream of the river of life, is- 
suing from the throne of God and of the Lamb." 

Various newspapers, and among them, the Mercwy 
of Pliiladeli)hia, clothed their columns in the badge of 
mourning ; which was " alike merited," says the Mer- 
Gury^ " by his services and fame and her virtues and 
piety." « 



LETTER OV CON noLKNi^O. 255 

The ladies of Abingdon, Virij;iiii;i, met luul entered 
into resolutions to transmit to General Jackson a letter 
•' assuring him of tlie sinccn-e regard tliey bore the cliar- 
neter and person of his deec^ased hidy, and th(^ sorrow 
t]u!y feel at his aillictive bereavement," and also to 
wear mourning badges on th(ur dresses for thirty days. 
The following is a copy of the letter of condolence to 
CJeneral Jackson: — 

January 5tli, 1829. 

" r)EAR Sir: — We have heard, with the deepest 
sorrow, of your late aillictive bereavement in the death 
of your truly pious and amiable wife; and we have 
met to mingle our tears with yours for the irreparable 
loss you have sustained. To Aveep on such an occasion 
is not "blamable ; it is but a becoming tribute to de- 
parted worth ; yet, at the same time, we should bow 
with submission to the will of Ilim who 'gives and wlio 
takes away at his pleasure.' She has gone, we trust, 
to those mansions ' where the wicked cease from troub- 
ling and the weary are at rest,' where the voice of 
malice cannot reach her or the tongue of calumny dis- 
turb her. 

"On such an occasion, when religion is deprived of 
one of its brightest ornamiuits, and society of one of 
its most valuable members, we consider it our duty to 
oifer to her memory the tribute of esteem which is due 
to her worth ; and to give you, Sir, our sincerest condo- 
lence for this lat(^ aillictive dispensation. At the same 
time, wc olfer our fervent prayer to the Almighty dis- 
poser of liuuian events, that your administration of 



250 RACHEL JACKSON. 

the high oiSce to wliich you have hitely been elected 
may l)e as wise and happy as your military career was 
brilliant and successful. 

" Sarah P. Preston." 

This beautiful effusion of the finest feeling does in- 
finite credit to the highly esteemed authoress. She 
was a daughter of General William Campbell, who so 
gloriously commanded the Virginia militia, and after- 
w ards a gallant corps in the battle of Guilford Court 
House, who in the language of the historian, were " the 
first engaged and the last to quit." 

The Board of Mayor and Aldermen of Knoxville, 
Tennessee, unanimously adopted a preamble and, reso- 
lutions in regard to the death of Mrs. Jackson. Joseph 
C. Strong was Mayor, and William Swan, Recorder. 
Colonel Jacobs offered the paper, and we annex the 
resolutions: — 

" Kesolved, That while we deeply regret the death 
of Mrs. Jackson, we cannot but express our gratitude 
to the Supreme Governor of the universe, that she was 
not taken from time to eternity until the people of 
the Union had given a clear and distinct manifestation 
of the high estimation in which they held the reputa- 
tion of herself and husband. 

"liesolved, That in consequence of the death 
of Mrs. Jackson, the Mayor be directed to request the 
Rev. Thomas II. Nelson to preach a sermon suitable 
to the occasion, in the First Presbyterian Church, at 
eleven o'clock a. m., on Thursday, the first day of Jan- 
uary next. 



TJIIBUTES OF EESPECT 257 

"Kesolved, That the inlia])itaiits of Knoxville bo 
respectfully i-equested to attend church, and al)staii\ 
from their ordinary business on Thursday, the first day 
of January next, as a tribute of respect to the memory 
of tlie deceased. Dec. 29, 1828." 

In accordance with the request contained in the 
second i-esolution, the K(3verend Thomas H. Nelson 
preached a funeral serriion on Thursday the first day 
of January, 1829. 

The Common Council of the city of New York 
passed resolutions of condolence to mark their " defer- 
ence for her domestic virtues, her benevolence and her 
piety." An autiienticated copy of these resolutions 
was forwarded to General Jackson. 

A public gathering assembled at the Vine Street 
Meeting House, Cincinnati, Ohio ; at which a very 
large committee was appointed to draft resolutions, 
which they did, in honor of " a lady in whom by uni- 
versal consent, the practical charities of the heart were 
gracefully blended with the purest and most unaffect- 
ed piety." 

On the 8th of January, throughout the C(juntry, 
instead of the customary firing of cannon commemora- 
tive (jf the day, a solemn silence was maintained, as a 
' token of respect for the deceased. At various public 
dinners on that day, Mrs. Jackson's death was alluded 
to in the most gentle and sympathetic terms. As an 
illustration of the tone and spirit of these allusions, we 
copy the following. At Boston, this toast was offered 
by S. Fessenden, Esq., " The memory of Mrs. Jackson, 
— sadness to our joy, but for the bright hope that the 
17 



258 RACHEL JACKSON. 

event wliicli liatli wrouglit for liiin whose praise we 
celebrate a cypress cliaplet, liatli introduced lier whose 
memory we revere and whose death we deplore, to a 
crown of unfading glory." 

In New Orleans the following toast was offered : 
'' The memory of Mrs. Jackson, — an example of piety, 
benevolence, and every Christian virtue. ' The only 
amaranthine flower on earth is virtue.' " 

Li Nashville, Capt. Parrish presented this, — " Tlie 
memory of Mrs. Jackson." 

In Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, at the celebration of 
the members of the Legislature, the following toast was 
drank : — " The memory of Mrs. Jackson, — the amia- 
ble wife of the slandered hero. The grave now shrouds 
her mortal remains, but her virtues will shine in \m\- 
liant purity, when her unprincipled slanderers are lost 
to tlie memory of man." 

A touchino; reference to the sad event was made 
in the House of Representatives by the Hon. Pryor 
Lea, of the Tennessee Delegation. 

And so hundi'cds of pages of eulogies published in 
every section of the Repu])lic might be copied. 

Many pieces of poetry mourning the death of Mrs. 
Jackson appeared in the papers, one of which, from the 
Cincinnati Advertiser, is subjoined. 

MONODY 

On the Death of Mes. Jaokson. 

"As wintry blasts succeed the siiinmer's bloom, 
And summer suns give place to winter's gloom; 
As to mom's rudianoo o'er crciitioii spread, 



MONODY. 259 

The night succeeds, wlion every ray is fled; 
Or as the heart, but ei'st with joy elate, 
To sorrow turns beneath t-onie strnke of fate; 
So a joy'd nation Fate has bid to turn 
Its smiles of joy to tears o'er Virtue's urn. 
Sacred the numbers breathed in Virtue's name, 
Dear still to goodness, if unknown to fame. 
Be thine the grateful task, iiumble muse, 
(Virtue's thy thciiio, and tliou c-.iust, ne'er refuse,) 
Be thine tlic task that !^oodnc=s to deplore, 
"Which Death, relentless, bids to be no more; 
To sing th' unspotted life, unknown to blame, 
But every virtue dear to woman's name ; 
The meek-eyed charity, tlie guileless heart, 
The long enduring undor sorrow's smart ; 
The ready friend to comfort in distress; 
The band as willing as the heart to bless; 
The every charm exalted virtue lends. 
Conferring blessings as its means extends ; 
The mind sincere, unknown to pious guile; 
Whifdi ne'er deceit, di.-honest, could defile, 
But still intent religion to obey, 
And as she taught, its precepts, led the way; 
To all its active impulses awake, 
And virtuous only for fair virtue's sake. 

*' Scarce was the contest o'er, the victory won, 
Mysterious Fate! But Inilf thy will was done. 
From that first hour a nation made its choice 
Of him in whose great name its sons rejoice, 
From the first hour the grateful news was hailed, 
Even from that hour her gentle spirit failed. 
While o'er the land loud peals of triumph rang, 
Iler milder nature felt the mortal \r.m<^, 
Which still protracted, nought availed to Bave 
Iler suifering nature from an honored grave. 

''Eternal Providence! Wiiate'er thy ways, 
'Tis still our duty to adore and ])raise. 
Lo, the bright virtues from her earliest time, 
Which souls ungenerous slandered into crime. 



260 EACHEL JACKSON. 

Lo, her loved husbniKVs fume, by foes .assailed, 

Impotent still. And while each effort tailed, 

Behold them turn wi'li must dishonest arts, 

Against domestic Peace, their venomed darts. 

Nor sex, nor purity, nor honored age 

Oould save them from the shafts of blinded rage. 

Yet she but lived to triumph and to see 

Her fame proved pure as 'twas designed to be. 

When Nature, in her great and high behest, 

Formed, of lier daughters, her among the best. 

Yet shall her cherished memory long endure, 

To still assuage the grief it may not cure. 

As when the glorious sun retires to rest, 

He leaves a golden twilight in the west, 

Where the mild radiance of his thousand rays, 

Illumes the skies and gladdens every gaze; 

So the remembrance of her virtues dear 

Shall o'er the hearts of tho^e who loved her here, 

Shed the mild radiance of that tranquil joy. 

Which death, nor fate, nor ill can e'er destroy." 

Until a few days before his death, the General 
wore always around his neck and hidden in his bosom 
a miniature of Mrs. Jackson, on the back of which is 
a pretty little wreath made of his and her hair. The 
chain to which it is attached is curiously wrought of 
black beads intermingled with a ilower-work of bright 
gold ones, into which these words are skilfully intro- 
duced : " Presented to General Andrew Jackson, as a 
token of esteem, from Caledonia M. Gibson. May bless- 
ino-s crown thy hoary head." Every night he placed 
this miniature on a little table, by his bedside, leaning 
against his Bible, with the beloved face towards him, 
so that the kind, familiar smile should be his first 
greeting when he waked. His grand-daughter, now 
Mrs. Lawrence, bears the honored name of his wife, 



THE TOMB AT THE HEEMITAGE. 261 

Rachel Jackson, and was an especial favorite of his. 
His eyes were often fixed upon her during his last ill- 
ness with peculiar interest and affection. One morn- 
ing within a few days of his death, when she came to 
bid him good-bye, before starting to the city to school, 
he threw the chain around her neck and asked her to 
wear, for his sake, the miniature he had loved and 
worn so long. 

In a corner of the garden at the Hermitage there 
is a simple elegant monument raised over the vault in 
which lie the remains of General Jackson and his wife. 
The steps run around the circular area, eighteen feet 
across. From this platform spring eight fluted columns 
of the Doric order, surmounted by a handsome entab- 
lature supporting the dome, which is crowned with a. 
funereal urn. On the interior, a plain cornice of 
vaulted ceiling, stuccoed in white, gives an air of purity 
and comeliness, well suited to a tomb. From the cen- 
tre of the platform rises a pyramid on a square base. 
On the floor, on each side of this pyramid, lie the 
tablets which contain the inscriptions. The one on the 
loft is the General's, which bears only his name and 
the record of his birth and death. The hand of an 
undying affection has covered the other with a long 
and tender testimony to her worth. It runs thus : 

^' Here lie the remains of Mrs. Kachel Jackson, 
wife of President Jackson, who died the 2 2d Decem- 
ber, 1828, aged 61. Her face was fair, her person 
pleasing, her temper amiable, and her heart kind ; she 
delighted in relieving the wants of her fellow crea- 
tures, and cultivated that divine pleasure by the most 



262 RACHEL JACKaOJSr. 

liberal and unpretending methodts ; to tlie poor she waa 
a benefactor, to the rich an example ; to the wretched 
a comforter, to the prosperous an ornament ; her piety 
went hand in hand with her benevolence, and she 
thanked her Creator for being permitted to do good. 
A being so gentle, and yet so virtuous, slander might 
wound but could not dishonor. Even death, when he 
tore her from the arms of her husband, could but 
transport her to the bosom of hei* God." 

Here in the freshness and greenness of the garden 
they planted, surrounded with clambering vines and 
fragrant blooms, the General and his beloved wife 
sleep their last sweet sleep. Across a garden-path, lie 
the remains of Mr. Earl, the artist, " friend and com- 
panion of General Andrew Jackson." Beside him lies 
Andrew Jackson, the adopted son of the General ; and 
near are two of his infant sous, and a grown son, 
Samuel, who fell in battle. 

General Jackson survived his wife more than six- 
teen years, and, unto the end, his love for her burned 
as brightly as in the hey-day of his youth. Though 
iiged and suffering greatly, he was remarkably ener- 
getic and kept up his correspondence with his old and 
dear i'riends. The last letter that he ever wrote, only 
two days before his death, was addressed to the Hon. 
Mt. Polk, President of the United States, expressing 
eonfidenco in his judgment and ability to guard well 
and truly the interests of his country. 



VIII. 

EMILY DONELSOK 

Mrs. Emily DoNELSoisr, the accomplished mistress of 
the White House during General Jackson's presiden- 
tial term, was the youngest child of Captain John 
Donelson, a man of sterling integrity and irreproacha- 
ble character, perfect in all the relations of life, respect- 
ed as a citizen, honored as a Christian, and beloved as 
a friend and neio'hbor. She was born in Davidson 
County, Tennessee, and educated at the Old Academy, 
in Nashville. Of rare personal loveliness and superior 
intellect, no expense or care was spared to fit her for 
the high position she was destined to fill in society. 
Though her childhood was spent in what was then 
called the " backwoods," it was not passed in obscurity, 
for her close relationship with Mrs. Jackson, tlie pub- 
lic prominence of her near relations, Generals Smith, 
Coffee and Hays, and the great wealth and high stand- 
ing of her father, early made her familiar with camps 
and crowds, and developed that courtly grace and ease 
of manner for which she was afterward so preeminent. 
A host of suitoiN* contended for the T)eautiful maiden's 
hand, among whom were General Sam Houston, Col. 
Ephraim H. Foster, and Major Gustavus A. Henry ; 
they always spoke of her as the " lovely Emily," and 
delighted in expatiating on the charms of her mind 
and j)erson. 

At the early age of sixteen, she was married to her 
oousin. Major Andrew J. Donelson, the protege and 
confidential adviser of General Jackson. She was ever 



-('>-^ .KMILY DONKLSOiV. 

a toiul niul faillirul wil'o, sliarini;' tl»o joys jiiid Iriumplia 
of hvv liusliniul, r('li('\iiio' liis c*;irt\s and sorrows, uud 
lillini>' liis lionu' \vi(li \)v:ivo and fonitort, and his heart 
with lighl and liappiuoss. 

i^n (u'lU'ral Jackson's election to the presidency, 
lie appointed INTajor Donelson liis ])rivate Secretary, 
and invitcul ]\lrs. Donelson to olliciate as mistress of 
ceremonies at the l^xt^culive IMansion. 

To settle a delicate question of precedence between 
iMrs. Jackson, jr. and INtrs. Donelson, who were both 
inmates of the i'resident's House and nieces of General 
Jackson, lie said to JMi's. Jackson, " you, my dear, are 
mistress of the Hermitage, and Emily is hostess of the 
AVhite IIous(\'" Both were satislied with this deci- 
sion, and ever afterward ]\Irs. Donelson o('cn])ied the 
first position in the Presi(h'nt's Mansion. This was a 
position tliat (lie eK^^ance and reliiienieut of the 
fornuu' mistresses of the mansion had invest(>d with 
great rc^speet ; and INirs. Donelson filled it as the)- had 
done, ever mindful of her dignity as a lady, and true to 
her duty as a. wile and mothei'. in all that is lovely 
and uohK; in woman, she was the peer of her illustri- 
ous predecessoi'K ; and her tact and grace contributed 
nuich to render (jeneral Jackson's term such a brilliant 
epoch in American history. It Avas a day of fierce 
party spirit ; political animosity s]>ared neither sex nor 
conditi:)n, yet the voici^ of detraction was never raised 
against her honored name. Friend and foe alike paid 
honiau'e to her charms. 

Mrs. Donelson was of nunlium height, with dark 
auburn hair, dark l)roA\u eyes, fair com})le.\ion, lips 



GENKTiAj. Jackson's defeiience. 205 

ftiid hroAv ex(]uisitely iiioiilded, slender symmetrical 
ligiire, :iiid liiiiids mid feet tiny as a child's, ller ])or- 
trait bears a striking resemblance to the pictures of 
Mary Queen of Scots. No stranger ever })as8es it 
without conunenting on its singular fascination. 
Young, fond of society and pleased with attention, she 
entered with zest into the festivities of AVashington, 
and participated in all its gayeties. Pier taste in dress 
was exquisite, and her toilette was the envy and ad- 
miration of fashionable circles. The dress she wor^^ at 
the first inauguration, an amber-colored satin, brocaded 
with bouquets of rose-buds and violets, and richly 
trimmed with white lace and pearls, was a present 
from the General, and was descri])ed in every paper of 
the Union. It is still preserved in the family, and even 
in this day of costly attire, would be a gala dress. 
Beloved as a daughter by Mrs. Jackson, and intimately 
associated with her for years, she was beside that hon- 
or(Hl and dear friend at the time of her death; and lu;r 
tend(!rness and sympathy did much to mitigate the 
poignancy of the General's bereavement. He alwa,ys 
called her " my daughter ; " and often when wearied 
with the cares of office, would seek relaxation amid her 
family circle. Arbiter in politics, he deferi'ed all mat- 
ters of etiquette to her ; and when she would a])peal 
to him to settle any knotty social point, he would re- 
ply, " you know best, my dear. Do as you 2)lease." Of 
lively imagination, she was quick at repartee, and had 
that gift possessed by so few talkers, of listening grace- 
fully. Thrown in contact with the brightest and most 
cultivated intellects of the day, she sustained hcj" ])art; 
12 



266 EMILY DONELSOiS'. 

and lier tavor was eagerly soiiglit by tlie learned and 
polished. A foreign minister once said to her, " Mad- 
am, you dance witli the grace of a Paiisian. 1 can 
hardly realize yon were educated in Tc^nnessee." 
" Count, you forget," was the s])irited reply, " that 
grace is a cosmopolite, and like a wild flower, is much 
oftener found in the ^voods than in the streets of a 
cityJ' 

During the Eaton controversy, tlie public was curi- 
ous to see what course she wonld take. Iler friends 
were also Mrs. Eaton's friends, it Avas her policy to 
please General Jackson, and General Jackson's heart 
was set on Mrs. Eaton's social recognition, yet Mrs. 
Donelst)n was a Avoman who, dearly as she loved pow- 
er, loved honor more. Of kind and teniler sensibili- 
ties, her heart and hand were ever ready to respond to 
the calls of the [)oor and sulfering, bnt she had no 
patience with the shameless and presnming, and could 
tolerate no association with a wc^man Avho could take 
such libiM'ties with her marriage vow. At the })ublic 
receptions and levees, she received Mrs. Eaton with her 
usual dignity and courtesy; but when the General 
asked her to visit that lady, and set the example of 
public I'ecognition of his favorite, she refused decidedly, 
saying, " Uncle, I will do anything on earth for yon, 
consistent with my dignity as a lady, but I cannot and 
Avill not visit any one of Mrs. Eaton's reputation." 
She carried her point, and honoi'ed be her name for the 
noble example she set her countrywomen. 

Mrs. Donelson's four children were all boin at the 
White House, and their earliest reminiscences are of 



THE FAMILY GEOUr. 207 

the East Room, levees, state dinners, and processions. 
General Jackson made tlieir eliristenino-s occasions of 
great ceremony, lie was god-fatlier of two of them, 
Mr. ^"an Bnren of another, and General Polk of the 
yonngest. (leneral Jackson ^\as very fond of these 
little ones, and took a grandfather's interest in all their 
plays and games. The White House has probably 
never had a more charming tableau than that present- 
ed by the old hero, surrounded by the lovely ftimily 
group, of which he was the soul and idol. Of Mrs. 
Donelson's cliildren, only her t'N^^o daughters are now 
living. Her two sons ].)assed away in the spi'ing-thue 
of life. They were young men of great promise, supe- 
rior intellect, and high social standing. Andrew, the 
eldest, Avas captain of engineers in the United States 
army, and died of consumption in 1859. John was 
captain in the Confederate service, and fell in the battle 
of Chickamauga, fighting bravely in defence of the 
cause he had espoused. 

In the spring of 183G, Mrs. Donelson's health be- 
came so delicate that she concluded to leave Washing- 
ton, and go home to Tennessee; hoping, in the quiet 
and seclusion of her beautiful home (Tulip Grove), 
soon to rcixain her liealtli and sti'ength. But her 
symptoms grew more alarming, and it soon became 
evident that consumption had marked her for its vic- 
tim. The scene changes now from the gay festivities 
of Wasliino-ton to the loneliness and sufferinij: of tlio 
sick room. The hectic flush and wasting form marked 
the rapid progress of the insidious disease, and 
thoughts of death became familiar. Though so young 



2GS EJIILY DONELSON. 

and gay, she bore lier surt'cring witli the patience and 
fortitude of an angel, and submitted witlunit a nmr. 
mur to the decree that tore her aAvay from husband, 
chihb'cn, and friends. Sliortly before her death, she 
made a pul)lic profession of rtibgion, and connected 
herself witli the Presbyterian cluuch. Every resource 
of medical skill and experience was tried to stay the 
course of her disease, but in vain ; and in December 
her s})irit passed from earth. Her death was as peace- 
ful and hopeful as her life had been loving and happy. 
Alwa>s a fond and proud mother, as the time drew 
near ibr a iinal separation from her children, she clung 
to them with a tenderness and devotion touching to 
behold. A few evenings before her death, she was 
sitting at an open window, admiring the beauty of a 
winter sunset, when a bird entered, and flying several 
times around the room, alighted on her chair. One of 
her little children, })laying by her side, made some 
exclamation and tried to catch it. " Don't disturb it, 
darling," said the dying mother, " maybe it comes to 
bid me })repare for my flight to another world. I 
leave you here, but the Heavenly Fatlier, \\'lio shelters 
and })rovides for this poor little bird this wintry day, 
will also Avatch over and take care of you all \\'hen I 
am gone. Don't forget mamma ; love her ahvays, and 
try to live so that we may all meet again in heaven." 
Ere the week closed, her chair was vacant ; eai'th had 
lost one of its noblest, purest spirits, but heaven had 
gained an angel. 

"J.ovoly, brii^lit, youtliful, chaste iis nioriiinjij dew, 
She >i)iiikkHl, was oxlmlod, and went to heavou." 



IX. 

SARAH YOEKE JACKSON. 

Tine wito of President Jackson's foster-son was the 
dangliter of Peter Yorke of Pliiladelpliin, whose grand- 
fatlier, Judg'e Yorke, held an n])]K)iiitnieiit under the 
ci'own of Great Pritain prior to the Ixevolution. She 
was educated in tliat city, and received all the acconi- 
plishnients a mind of superior order nnchu' similar for- 
tunate circumstances would be capable of appreciating. 
Left an oi'phan at an early age, her atlections were 
concentrated upon those nearest of kin to her, and 
well and nobly has she fulfilled all the requirements 
of sisterly love. A large circle of friends and rela 
tives rendered hei* young life happy by their sympathy 
and affection, and her youth is remembered as a scene 
of varied though ceaseless pleasures. 

Miss Yorke was married to Mr. Jackson soon after 
the inauguration of his adopted father, and made her 
entree at the Whiter House as a bride. Necessarily 
the object of remark and criticism, which has not gen- 
erally a tendency to promote ease of manner, she yet 
managed to win sincere admiration from all who came 
in contact with her. Seldom has any one in so conspicu- 
ous a position exhibited so much of the perfect self- 
possession which distinguishes the lady " to the manor 
born." She combined the opposite qualities of dignity 
and affability, and secured thereby a lasting influ- 
ence over those with whom she was associated. Pleud- 



270 SARAH YORKE JACKSON. 

iiig a quick temper and liigli spirits, with mncli kindli* 
ness of heart she wjxs, as is often the ca^^e witli sudi 
natures, generous and forbearing toward loved ones, — • 
determined and unyielding where her rights were in- 
vaded. Her atfeetion for her father-in-law was intense, 
and he often testiiied his love for her. 

On one occasion, when receiving a deputation from 
the Keystone State, he remarked to them, " Gentle- 
men, I am very glad to see you, for I am much indebt- 
ed to Penns^dvania. She has given me a daughter 
who is a great comfort to her father." 

The tone and impressive manner convinced his 
hearers of the entire truth of his remark, while the 
look of atlectionate pride bestowed upon her filled her 
lieart with happiness. 

At the White House, she shared the honors of host- 
ess with her kinswoman Mrs. Donelson, whose supericn* 
charms were gracefully acknowledged by Mrs. Jack- 
son, and acted in accordance with the President's sug- 
gestion to remain as the mistress of his own home. 

During the long period of ill health which accom- 
panied the declining years of General Jackson, his 
daughter ministered to him as a loving woman only can. 
Never for a moment was lier watchful care withdrawn, 
but leaving all other duties, she fulfilled her mission well. 

The crowds of company which flocked to the Her- 
mitage were always smilingly received by her, and her 
name was dear to all who enjoyed the hospitality of 
the home of old Hickory. After the death of ]\[rs. 
Donelson and the failing health of her father, her task 
wiis one of severity, but the method and order which 



DOMESTIC PURSUITS. 271 

reigned in and about lier lioine — the attention slie be- 
stowed ujion lior cliildren, and the manner in Avhich 
she cared for the dependent ones abont lier, attest her 
strong Christian cliaracter and convince us that lier 
success was entire. Hospitality at the Hermitage was 
taxed in a scarcely less degree than Monticello had 
once been, and for man}^ years Mrs. Jackson received 
the world's votaries at the shrine of greatness. 

In the constant whirlpool of society she never neg- 
lected the nursery, noi' did her distinguished guests 
ever discover in her conduct the uneasiness she often 
silently endui-ed. 

In addition to all this, there was a never ceasing 
demand on her time and brain for the welfare of her 
numerous dependents. Slie was a true friend to the 
slaves of the family, and. the many helpless ones al- 
ways seen on a large plantation were hei' si)ecial prop- 
erty. The wants of the sick, the control of the 
young and the management of all, was a task only ap- 
preciated by those accustomed to an institution now 
extinct. On Sal)bath evenings, for many years, it was 
her habit to have all who would choose to o-J^ther 

o 

ai'ound, to hear her read of eternal life, and to in- 
struct the children in religious duties. 

Called to pass through great afflictions — to part 
with father ami husband, and later to mourn the loss 
of a son in his early manhood, whose life was just bud- 
ding into promise of future usefulness, her sorrows rest 
now in her declining years heavily upon her. Her 
grief is sacred. 

During the civil war, whose earliest tocsin was 



272 SAEAII YORKE JACKSON. 

sounded near her, and wliose dying eclioes reverberated 
along the banks of the Cumberland, she remained in 
the lonely home of her happier youth, amid scenes 
which continually recall the unreturuing past. In the 
quiet of a winter's night, or even amid the beauty of 
a mid8ummer''s day, she looks upon the tomb in the 
garden, and hallowed recollections fill her heart. 
Through the triumphs of life she has passed, and now 
in the eventide sits beside her graves. 

Now, as in eai'lj^ youth, she evinces her submission 
to the will of God, and the little church adjoining the 
Hermitas^e is as sacred to her as it was dear to her 
adopted mother. 

In her present retirement with her children, of 
whom two remain to bless her evening of life, and 
grandchildren to cheer her with their innocent gayety, 
let us hope that further trials may be spared her, and 
that even to the end she may enjoy the sweet security of 
a promise made to those like her, who have finished 
their course, and are called to enter into the joys of 
their Lord. 




ECmSoMAJE^H-Kf "^AM ]:^lT]f'f:aS 



X. 

HANNAH YAN BUREN. 

The wife of President Van Buren was born at 
Kiuderhook, on the Hudson, in the year 1782, a few 
months after the birth of her future husband, whoso 
schoohuate and companion she was during their early 
years. She was of Dutch descent, and the original 
name Goes but pronounced by her ancestors Hoes, and 
since so called by all the members of the family in 
this country, is familiar to those who are acquainted 
with the liistory of the Netlierkinds. 

If the charms of nature — grand scenery, magnifi- 
cent views, and the ever-varying harmony of beautiful 
skies — could add to the growth and development of 
childhood, Hannah Hoes was incomparably blest. 
The years of her life were spent on the banks of the 
Hudson, in the most beautiful section of her native 
State — a State remarkable for the grandeur of its moun- 
tain scenery, and the number of its romantic rivers. 
Chief among these, and surpassed by none in the world, 
is the Hudson, in sight of whose classic waters she 
lived and died. 

Her ancestors were sturdy, enterprising Dutch, 
whose homes for many generations had been along the 
banks of the stream discovered by their renowned 
countryman, and not one of the rosy urchins of their 
households but knew of the adventures of Hendrick 
Hudson, and reverenced him nut only as the hero of 



274 UANNAII VAN BUKEN. 

their race and the discoverer of their river, but the 
founder of their prosperity. Nor could the tales of 
the old dames who resided nearest the lofty Catskills 
— tliat he and his followers still haunted the mountains 
and were the direct cause of calamities — divest their 
minds of his wondrous exploits. In each ripple of the 
dnncing waves, in the denseness of the grey fog, or 
perchance in the quiet stillness of eventide, they re- 
cognized some similarity, and I'ecalled a parallel of his 
experiences. 

Mid such scenes and under such influences passed 
all the years of Mrs. Van Buren's life. 

In February, 1807, at the age of twenty-five, she 
was married to Mr. Van Buren. The intimacy which 
resulted in this union was formed in early childhood, 
and was consummated as soon as his position at 
the bar would justify his taking such a step. The 
steadftxstness of his attachment to his young relative 
was a remarkable trait in the character of Mr. Van 
Buren, and adds a lustre to his unsullied name. 

Some time after their marriage they removed to 
Hudson City, where eight years of wedded life passed 
fleetly away, they losing, in the meantime, the young- 
est of their four sons, an infant only a few weeks 
old. In 181G, Mr. Van Buren removed his family to 
Albany, di-awn thither, doubtlcs>i, by his increased and 
increasing professional standing and political leader- 
Rhip. 

From this time forth, the highest wishes of his 
enrly life were crowned with complete fruition. 
Wealth, fame and iiilluence were the fruits of his un- 



AN EAKLY SUINBIEK HOME. 275 

remitted industry for nearly twenty years. " Hia 
natural talents bad reached their full expansion ; his 
laborious industry exhibited its proper results ; and 
amid a constellation of great minds, whose brilliant 
efibrts erected and adorned the fabric of New York 
jurisprudence, the vigor of his intellect and the rich- 
ness of his learning won for him a conspicuous and ac- 
knowledged eminence." 

But the voice of adulation fell upon, unheeding ears 
when sickness invaded the household and hastened the 
cherished wife and mother from her loved ones. Not 
even the ardent devotion, the deathless affection of the 
husband whose efforts in life had all been made for her, 
could stay the destroyer in his cruel work. For 
months she lay an invalid, tended by those who loved 
her more than life, and then sank into the grave a vic- 
tim of consumption. 

A geiiftleman of high distinction, who knew her 
intimately from her earliest years, said, "there never 
was a woman of a purer and kinder heart." Gentle 
and winning in life, her memory is redolent with the 
})erfume of her saintly sweetness and purity. From 
this point I epote the words of Miss Cantiue, the 
niece of Mrs. Van Buren, who was but sixteen years 
of age at the time of her aunt's death. " Aunt Han- 
nah lived but a short time after their removal to Al- 
bany, dying at the early age of thirty-five, when her 
youngest child was still an infant. I can recall but 
little about her till her last sickness and death, except 
the general impression I have of her modest, even 
timid manner — her shrinking from observation, and 



27() HANNAH VAN BUltEN. 

licr loviug, gentle disposition. The last, long sickness 
(she was confined to the house for six months) and her 
death are deeply engraved on my memory. When 
told by her physicians that she could live, in all pro- 
bability, but a few days longer, she called her children 
to her and gave them her dying counsel and blessing, 
and with the utmost composure bade them farewell 
and committed them to the care of the Saviour she 
loved, and in whom she trusted. 

" This scene was the more remarkable to those who 
^vitnessed it, as, through the most of her sickness, she 
had been extremely nervous, being only able to see 
her children for a few moments on those days on which 
she was most comfortable. They could only go to 
her bedside to kiss her, and then be taken away. As 
an evidence of her perfect composure in view of death, 
I will mention this fact. It was customary in that 
day, at least it was the custom in the city of Albany, 
for the bearers to wear scarfs which were provided by 
the fiimily of the deceased. Aunt requested that this 
might be omitted at her Inirial, and that the amount 
of the cost of such a custom should be given to the 
poor. Her wishes were entii'ely carried out." 

The following obituary notice is in itself a sketch 
of the character of Mrs. Van Buren, and was written 
by one who knew her better than any one out of her 
own family. 

tVom the Albany Argus, Fd>. Sth, 1819. 

"Died in this city, on the evening of Friday the 
5lh insl., after a lingering illness, Mrs. Hannah Van 



JOY OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH. 277 

Buren, wife of tlie Hon. Martin Van Bureii, iu the 36tfc 
year of her age. The death of this amiable and excel- 
lent woman is severely felt by a numerous circle of 
relatives and friends. As a daughter and a sister, wife 
and mother, her loss is deeply deplored, for in all these 
various relations she was affectionate, tender, and truly 
estimable. But the tear of sorrow is almost dried by 
the reflection that she lived the life, and died the death, 
of the righteous. Modest and unassuming, possessing 
the most engaging simplicity of manners, her heart 
was the residence of every kind affection, and glowed 
with sympathy for the wants and sufferings of others. 
Her temper wsls uncommonly mild and sweet, her 
bosom was filled with benevolence and content — no 
love of show, no ambitious desu^s, no pride of osten- 
tation ever disturbed its peace. When her attention 
was directed, some years before her death, to the im- 
portant concerns of religion and salvation, she j)resented 
to the gospel she embraced a rich soil for the growth 
and cultivation of every Christian principle. Humility 
was lier crowning grace, she possessed it in a rare de- 
gree ; it took deep root and flourished full and fair, 
shedding over every action of her life its genial influence. 
She was an ornament of the Christian faith, exemplify- 
ing in her life the duty it enjoins, and experiencing, in 
a good degree, its heavenly joys, its cheering hopes. 
In her last illness she was patient and resigned. In 
the midst of life, with all that could make it worth 
possessing — esteemed and loved, happy in her family 
and friends — she was forced away. But she left all 
without a sigh. She waited the cipproach of death wit!) 



278 HANNAH VAN BUREN. 

calmness — her Redeemer liad robbed it of its sting and 
made it a welcome messenger. Doubtless, ' 'twas gain 
for lier to die.' Doubtless, she is now enjoying that 
rest ' which remaineth for the people of God.' Pre- 
cious shall be the memory of her virtues, 

" Sweet the savor of liei- name, 
And soft her sleeping bed." 




X. 



XL 



ANGELICA VAN BUKEN. 



The era in wliicli Ilannali Van Buren lived was 
far removed from lier husband's ascension to the 
Presidency, for she had been dead seventeen years, 
when, in 1837, that event occurred. 

But for the presence of his accomplished daughter- 
in-law, his administration would have been socially a 
failure ; the prestige of his high position was not com- 
plete until the honors were shared with his young rel- 
ative. 

Angelica Singleton, the daughter of Bichard Sin- 
gleton, Esq., was born in Sumpter District, South 
Carolina. Her grandfather, Singleton, and her 
great-grandfather General Bichardson, served with 
distinction in the revolutionary war. On the ma- 
ternal side, her grandfather, John Coles, Esq., of 
Albemarle County, Virginia, was the intimate and 
valued friend of Presidents Jefferson and Madison, 
and two of his sons wei'e respectively their private 
secretaries during their Presidential terms. 

Miss Singletou's early advantages were in keeping 
with her elevated social position. To complete an ed- 
ucation superior to the generality of her sex at that 
day, she spent several years at Madame Grelaud's sem- 
inary, in Philadelphia. The winter previous to her 



280 * ANGELICA VAN BUF.EN. 

marriage, she passed in Washington, in the fiimily of 
hei" kinsman. Senator William C. Preston. Soon after 
her arrival, her cousin, the justly celebrated Mrs. Madi- 
son, pi'ocured the appointment of a day to present her 
to the President, accompanied also by Senator Pres- 
ton's family. Her reception was a very flattering one, 
and she became a great favorite with President Van 
Buren. In November of the year following (1838), 
she was married at her father's residence, to Colonel, 
then Major, Van Buren, the President's eldest son, and 
his pi'ivate secretary — -a graduate of West Point and 
long an officer in the army. Her first appearance as 
the lady of the White House was on tlie following 
New Year's day, when, supported by the ladies of the 
cabinet, she I'eceived with the President. 

The following brief, though favorable cotemporan- 
eous notice of that occasion is taken from a long and 
racy account by a correspondent of the Boston Post^ 
of the movements at the capital on New Year's day: — 

"The Executive Mansion was a place of much 
more than usual attraction in consequence of the fi.rst 
aj>pearance there of the bride of the President's son 
and private secretary, Mrs. Abram Van Buren. She 
is I'epresented as being a lady of rare accomplishments, 
very modest, yet perfectly easy and graceful in her 
manners, and free and vivacious in her conversation. 
vShe was universally admired and is said to have borne 
the fatigue of a three hours' levee with a patience and 
pleasantry which must be inexhaustible to last one 
through so severe a trial. A constant current set from 
the President's house to the modest mansion of the 



THE PALMETTO STATE. 281 

much resj'ected lady of ex-Presi<lent Madison. Ex- 
President Adams and his lady were also cordially 
greeted at tlieir residence by a number of friends." 

Mrs. Van Buren is the only daughter of South 
Carolina who has graced the White House as hostess, 
and her life there was rendered as entirely agreeable 
as the combined influences of wealth, station, and re- 
finement could make it. The reminiscences of her 
early life carry us back to a period when South Caro- 
lina enjoyed the distinction of sharing with Virginia 
the honor of being the seat of elegant hospitality and 
refined culture. Under the benign influences of a 
matchless climate and great wealth, the people of the 
Palmetto State enjoyed the leisure and opportunity of 
developing all those characteristics which adorn hu- 
manity and render life attractive. The citizens of this 
state were fortunate in being the descendants of the 
best fixrailies of Virginia, and Mrs. Van Buren is a 
most pleasing representation of this old aristocracy. 

The degradation of the manners and morals of the 
country, infecting as it does every part of our national 
character, which we know has undermined the aristo- 
cratic tendencies of southern society, but renders the 
contem])lation of a representative of the past all the 
more pleasing, and in the subject of our sketch we 
have the purest type of a class once powerful, now 
rapidly becoming extinct. 

The position of Mrs. Van Buren's family was al- 
ways such that all the avenues of intellectual enjoy- 
ment were open to her, while her natural endowments 
were of that high order which rendered cultivation 



282 ANGELICA VAN BUREIS". 

rapid and pleasant. Added to lier many gifts, was the 
iri-esistil )le one of l)eauty of form and deportment. The 
engraving, from a portrait by " Inman," j)aiiife(l soon 
after tlie time of her marriage, represents the exceed- 
ing loveliness of her charming person. More potent 
than mere regularity of features is the gentle winning 
expression of hei' clear black eyes ; and the smile about 
her finely chiselled lips betokens the proud serenity of 
her most fortunate life. 

Mrs. Van Buren was, on her mother's side, de- 
scended from a long line of ancestors, and the genealog- 
ical tables of the family discover many of the leading 
names of American politicians and statesmen. Aside 
from mere wealth, they possessed abilities which, iu 
many instances, secured them the highest position 
in the gift of their government. Prominent among 
these was her uncle, Mr. Stevenson, minister to Eng- 
land. In the spring of 1839, Colonel and Mrs. Van 
Buren made a rapid visit to Europe, returning at 
the request of the President in the following fall in 
time for the session of Congress. While abroad, they 
enjoyed the most unusual social advantages, being 
members of the President's family, and she a niece of 
the American ambassador, who had been a resident of 
London several years. They were in London during 
the whole of the "season " of the year following the 
queen's coronation, which derived especial brilliancy 
from the presence of the present Emperor of Russia, 
Prince Henry of Orange, and other foreigners of note. 

No American lady has ever visited Europe under 
similar circumstances. Nor has any of her country- 



ABROAD. 283 

women made a more lasting impression than did this 
young representative of the President's family. By 
her cultivated, unassuming mannei's she made herself 
most agreeable to the court circles of England, and 
maintained in the saloons of royalty the simplicity and 
dignity of. her republican education. 

Mrs. Stevenson was the cha[)eron of Mrs, Van 
Buren on all public occasions, and the recollections of 
evenings spent with her at " Almack's," at the Palace, 
and in the society of the cultured and noble, will al- 
ways gladden the heart of the niece who survives her. 

Major Van Buren's position as private secretary 
rendered their unexampled and most fortunate visit to 
England of short duration. To reach America before 
the meeting of Congress, they left London for the 
continent. In the course of their hurried tour, they 
passed some weeks in Paris, and were presented by 
the American minister. General Cass, to the king and 
queen. They were invited to dine at St. Cloud, and 
were received with the kind unceremonious manner 
which, it is well known, distinguished all the members 
of that branch of the Orleans family. After dinner, 
Louis Philippe conducted them through the rooms of 
the Palace, even to the door of the sleeping-apart- 
ment, as he supposed, of his grandson, the Comte de 
Paris, at v/hich he knocked without obtaining any re- 
spouse. The queen, having been told by Mi's. Van 
Buren on her return of what had happened, said, 
laughingly, " Ah ! that is all the king knows about it ! 
After his mother left with the Due D'Orleans for Al- 
giers, I caused the child to be removed to a room 



284 ANGELICA VAN BUREN. 

nearer my own." She then proposed to send for him, 
and for her Wurtemberg grandchild also, but unfortu- 
nately for the gratification of her guest's natural curi- 
osity, the little princes were fast asleep. 

After the expiration of President Van Buren's 
term of office, Mrs. Van Buren and her husband lived 
with him at Lindenwald through several years of his 
retirement, passing much of the winter months with 
her parents in South Carolina, and in 1848 establish- 
ing themselves in the city of New York, which has since 
been their home uninterruptedly, except by visits to 
the South, rendered necessary by the death of her 
father and the consequent charge of her patrimonial 
estate, and by a three years' absence in Europe, super- 
intending the education of their sons. 

The spring time of her youth has passed, but the 
glorious summer of her womanhood is upon her, in 
which she is garnering the beautiful fruits of wisdom and 
goodness. Mrs. Van Buren's entire existence has been 
one of prosperity, but it has not rendered her selfish ; 
it has rather, on the contrary, induced the employment 
of her gifts in behalf of others. To the young of her 
sex who are aspiring for a pure and useful standard of 
womanly womanhood, we point with just pride to her 
worthy example. No fame is more glorious than hers, 
insomnch as it encourages the development of all that 
is pleasing and l^eautiful in humanity. 

She has known sorrow in the early death of two 
of her children ; and in later years the loss of relatives 
and friends has cast a momentary gloom about her. 
But her inner life is too harmonious and serene to 



A NOBLE WOMAN NOBLY PLANNED. 285 

allow any trouble to crush her. In the pleasant re- 
flections of the past and bright anticipations of the 
future, she remains a happy participator in the scenes 
of the present, and is a unique and charming example 
of a " noble woman nobly planned." 



XII. 

ANNA SYMMES HAREISON. 

Anna Symmes, the wife of the nintli President of the 
United States, was born the famous year of American 
Independence, and but a few months after the renown- 
ed skirmish at Lexington. Her birth-place was near 
Morristown, New Jersey, the scene of suffering the fol- 
lowing year, where the tracks of the blood-stained feet 
of the soldiers attested their forlorn condition. Soon 
after her birth, which occured the 25th of July, lYTS, 
her mother died. Bereft of her care, she was thrown 
upon her father's hands, for these attentions necessary 
for one of such a tender age, which until her fourth 
year he carefully bestowed. Her maternal grand- 
parents, Mr. and Mrs. Tuthill, were residing at South- 
hold, Long Island, and thither at the age of four years 
she was taken by her surviving parent. The incidents 
of her journey from Morristown to Long Island, then 
in the possession of the British, she remembered through 
life. Her father, the Hon. John Cleves Symmes, 
though at the time a Colonel in the Continental army, 
was so anxious to place his daughter with her grand- 
mother, that he assumed the disguise of a British offi- 
cer's uniform and successfully accomplished his perilous 
undertaking. Leaving her in the home from which he 
had taken her mother years before, he joined his own 
troops and served with distinction during the war. 
Not until after the evacuation of New York, in the fall 



EARLY RELIGIOUS TEACHING. 287 

of 1T83, did tlie fatlier and child meet agaiu, nor did 
she return to his New Jersey home. Under the care 
of her excellent grandmother, she became early imbued 
with a love of religious reading, and learned those 
early habits of industry which the young under the 
right influences early attain. Mrs. Tuthill was a godly 
woman, whose soul had been deeply stirred by the 
preaching of Whitfield, whom she greatly reverenced 
and admired. From her lips the little Anna received 
her first religious instructions, the good impressions of 
which lasted her through life. She often remarked 
that " from her earliest childhood, the frivolous amuse- 
ments of youth had no charms for her. If ever con- 
strained to attend places of fashionable amusement, it 
was to gratify others and not herself." In this early 
home of quiet and retirement, she acquired habits of 
order and truthfulness which characterized her conduct 
in after-years. Her hands even as a child were never 
idle, \ut as a Christian virtue she was traincxl to dili- 
gence, prudence, and economy. When old enough to 
attend school, she was placed at a seminary in East 
Hampton, where she remained some time, and subse- 
quently slie was a pupil of Mrs. Isabelle Graham, and 
an inmate of her family in New York City. Here she 
readily acquired knowledge, and improved tlie oppor- 
tunities afforded her. For lu^r t(3acher slie ever retain- 
ed the highest regard, and. cherished tlie memory of 
that pious and exemplary woman through all the 
changes of her own life. 

At the age of nineteen she bade adieu to her aged 
grand-parents, and accompanied her father and step- 



288 ANNA SYMMES IlAIUilSON. 

mother to Oliio, in 1794. A year previous to tliis time, 
Judge Symmes had located a small colony of settlers 
who had accompanied him from New Jersey, at a point 
on the Ohio river, afterward known as North Bend. 
Returning to the Eastern States, he married Miss Susan 
Livingston, a daughter of Governor Livingston, of New 
York, and in the autumn started again, accompanied 
by his wife and daughter, for his frontier home. The 
journey was made with great difficulty, and the party 
did not reach North Bend until the morning of the 
1st of January, 1Y95. Thus was the youthful Anna a 
pioneer in the land which she lived to see blossoming 
as the rose under the hands of civilization and material 
progression. 

Judge Symmes was one of the Associate Judges of 
the Supreme Court of the North Western Territory, 
and was often called to attend Court in a distant part 
of the Territory. During the absence of her father on 
these journeyings, Anna would spend most of her time 
with an elder sister, who had previously removed to 
Lexington, Kentucky. It was while on one of these 
visits to her sister, Mrs. Peyton Short, that she formed 
the acquaintance of her future husband, then Captain 
Harrison '^' of the United States Army, and in com- 

* William Henry Harrison, the third aud youngest son of Benjamin 
Harrison, of Virginia, was born the 9th day of February, 1773, at Berkley 
on the James river, about twenty-five miles brlow Richmond, in Charles 
City County. His father was a signer of the Declaraiion of Independence, 
a member of the Continental Congress, and afterward Governor of Vir- 
ginia. Young Harrison was educated at Hampden Sydney College, and 
afterward studied medicine. After his fatlier's death in 1791, he became 
tlio ward of Robert Morris, the celebrateil financier, whoso i)rivate for- 
tune so often relieved the sufferings of the Continental Army. When 



PERSONAL BEAUTY. 289 

mand of Fort Washington, the present site of Cincin 
nati. The youthful Virginian was mucli attracted by 
the gentle, modest manners and the sweet face of Anna 
Symmes, and he determined on winning lier liand. 
The effort was highly successful, for they were ma,rried 
at her father's house, North Bend, Ohio, November 
22d, 1795. 

Thus, in less than one year after her removal from 
her childhood's home, in the twentieth year of her age, 
Anna Symmes became the wife of Captain Harrison, 
subsequently the most popular General of his day and 
President of the United States. 

Soon after their marriage, Captain Harrison re- 
signed his commission in the army, and was elected the 
first deliij^ate to Conerress from the North West Terri- 
tory. Mrs. Harrison accompanied him to Philadelphia, 
then tlie seat of the General Government, but spending, 
however, most of the session in visiting her husband's 
relatives in Virginia, 

From those who knew Mrs. Harrison at this ])eriod 
of h(^r life, is given the assurance that she was very 
handsome. Her face was full of animation and kind- 
liness, and her health, which was perfectly robust, add- 
ed a glovv^ to her features, very pleasing to behold. 
Her figure was not large, but a happy medium, al- 

aboiit to graduate, as a physician, the reports of troubles in tlio West de- 
cided hiin to join the frontier troops. The opposition of liis excellent 
guardian was not sufficient to deter him from liis purpose, and as his de- 
eign was api)rove(l by "Washington, wlio liad also been a warm friend of 
Iiis father, he received from thnt noble warrior an ensign's commission in 
the first regiment of United States Artillery, then stationed at Fort 
Washing; on. 
13 



290 ANNA SYMMES HAERISON. 

thougli ratlier inclined to become reduced upon the 
slightest occasion. Later in life, as her health grew 
more delicate, she looked much smaller than when in 
youth's bright morn she became a bride. In a letter 
received by her in 1840, from a friend who had known 
her at eighteen years of age, this passage occurs : " I 
suppose I should not recognize any thing of your pres- 
ent countenance, for your early days have made such 
an impression upon my mind that I cannot realize any 
countenance for you but that of your youth, on which 
nature had been so profusely liberal." In the pictures 
taken later in life, her face exhibits a very intel- 
lectual and animated expression, and there are traces 
of former beauty in the delicate features and bright 
black eyes. 

When the Indiana Territory which now forms the 
State of Indiana, was formed out of a portion of the 
old North Western Territory, General Harrison was 
appointed its first Governor by President Adams. 

He removed his family to the old French town of 
Vincennes, on the Wabash, then the seat of the Terri- 
torial Government, where Mrs. Harrison lived for many 
years a retired but very happy life. 

Dispensing with a liberal hand and courteous man- 
ner the hospitality of the Gubernatorial Mansion, she 
was beloved and admired by all who knew her. Gen- 
eral Harrison retained this position during the admin- 
istrations of Adams, Jefferson, and Madison, until the 
inglorious surrender of Hull, in 1812, when he was ap- 
pointed to the command of the north-western army. 
Mi's. Harrison remained in Vincennes during the fabJ 



TIPPECANOE. 291 

of 1811, while her husband was marcliing with hia 
small force to disband the tribes of hostile Indiana 
gathering for battle at Prophet's Town, and was there 
when the news of the battle of Tippecanoe reached 
her. But she rejoiced that it was over, and the for- 
mida])le combinations of Tecumseh and the Prophet 
were dissipated forever. Henceforth the settlers might 
work in peace, for the foot of the red man came never 
again across the Wabash with hostile intent. 

The battle-ground of Tippecanoe, the scene of Gen- 
eral Harrison's dearly bought triumph, after the lapse 
of more than half a century, is as quiet and green as 
a village churchyard. A low white paling fence sur- 
rounds it, and the trees are tall and carefully pruned 
of undergrowth. Mounds, so frequently observed in 
the west, and here and there a quaint wooden head- 
board marks the spot of some brave soldier's fidl. The 
train as it rushes from Lafayette through what was 
formerly a wilderness, to the west, gives the traveller 
but a moment to look upon this historic spot, but the 
passing view repays one for the effort made to see it, 
and the effect on a thoughtful nature is mournfully 
pleasant. One forgets all the hearts which were bro- 
ken, all the hopes blasted that fatal 7th of November 
morning, when the savages rushed unexpectedly upon 
the weary troops, sleeping after the exhaustive fatigue 
of travel. It is not of them as individuals which 
makes one feel a glow of patriotism in viewing this 
silent place, but the principles for which they fought 
have been vindicated, and their burying-ground hah 
lowed. These thoughts rise when looking upon a for^ 



292 AKNA SYMMES IIAllHISON. 

mer field of carnage and deadly strife. Where now 
wild flowers covei* the groiiiid with beauty, and birds 
in the silent trees fill the air with melody, where the 
stars shed a soft, holy light, and the universal nature 
covers the ravages of time with a mantle of turf, — was 
once the slaughter ground of a I'ace rapidly passing 
away. 

After the battle of Tippecanoe, General Harrison 
removed his family to Cincinnati, and accepted the po- 
sition of Major-General in tlie forces of Kentucky, then 
about to march to the relief of the North Western 
Territory. 

Mrs. Harrison was thus left a comparative stranger 
in Cincinn.'iti, with the sole charge of lier young and 
large family of children during the greater part of the 
war of 1812. During this time, several of the children 
were prostrated by long and severe illness, and to this 
trial was added the painfid anxiety attending the fate 
of her husband. But under these and all afllictions, 
Mrs. Harrison bore up with the firmness of a Iloman 
matron, and the humility and resignation of a tried 
Christian mother. 

In 1814, General Harrison resigned his position in 
the army and went to live at North Bend, fifteen miles 
below Cincinnati, on the Ohio. In the limits of this 
sketch it is impossible to give all the interesting de- 
tails of Mrs. Harrison's life during her thirty years' 
residence at the old homestead. Many, very many of 
her acts of neighborly kindness and Christian charity 
will never be known on earth, for she shrank from any 
exposition of her benevolence. 



TRIED IN THE FUHNACK OF AFFLICTION. 21)3 

General Harrison I)ein2^ much from liome, engaged 
in public affairs, she was left in the control of her large 
family of ten children, and ofttimes the children of her 
friends and neighbors. Schools in that new and unset- 
tied country were " few and far between," and Mrs. 
Harrison always employed a private tutor. The gen- 
erous hospitality of North Bend being so vv^ell known, 
it was not surprising that many of the childi'en of the 
neighborhood became inmates of her family for as long 
as they chose to avail themselves of tlie privileges of 
the little scliool. 

Although at this time in delicate health, Mrs. Har- 
rison never weaiied or complained in the discharge of 
domestic duties, and forgot the multiplied cares she as- 
sumed in the thought of the benefit the children of 
others would derive from such an arrangement. She 
was sustained by her husband, and loved l)y her chil- 
dren and servants, and the burden was lightened spir- 
itually, if not materially. 

But here commenced the loni2: series of trials which 
tested her character, and chastened her heart. During 
her thirty years' life at North Bend, she buried one 
child in infancy, and subsequently followed to the 
grave three daughters and four sons, all of whom were 
settled in life, and ten grandchildren. In view of these 
bereavements she wrote to her pastor, " And now what 
shall I say to these things; only, 'Be still and know 
that I am God.' You will not fail to pray for me and 
my dear son and daughter who are left. For I have 
no wish for my children and grandchildren than to see 
them the humble followers of the Lord Jesus." 



294 ANNA SYJLAIES IIAERISON. 

Her influence over her fiiraily was strong and abid- 
ing, and all loved to do reverence to her consistent, 
conscientious life. Her only surviving son wrote in 
1848, "That I am a firm believer in the religion of 
Christ is not a virtue of mine. I imbibed it at m}^ 
mothers bi'east, and can no more divest myself of it 
than I can of my nature." 

The same was true of all her children, and what 
errors they might embrace, they could not forget the 
religion of their mother, nor wander far from the pre- 
cepts, for " whatever is imbibed with the mother s milk, 
lasts forever for weal or for woe."" The following inci- 
dent will show that her precepts and examples as a mem- 
ber of the church were not unapjireciated by her hus- 
band. In 1840, during the Presidential canvass, a dele- 
gation of politicians visited North Bend on the Sab- 
bath. General Harrison met them near his residence 
and extending his hand, said: " Gentlemen, I should be 
most happy to welcome you on any other day, but if I 
have no regard for religion myself, I have too much re- 
spect for the religion of my wife to encourage the vio- 
lation of the Christian sabbath." 

In 1836, General Harrison was first nominated for 
the Presidency. Mrs. Harrison was much annoyed by 
even the remote possibility of his election. There 
were no less than three candidates of the old federal 
party in the field, and the triumph of either was al- 
most an impossibility. Yet even this probability of 
having to break up the retirement of her old home at 
North Bend and be thrown in the station of fashion 
and position in Washington, filled the heart of Mra 



295 

Harrison with dismay. When tlie trio of candidatea 
had defeated themselves and elected the champion of 
the Democracy, Mrs. ILirrison felt heartily glad that 
her quiet was again restored, and she contemj)lated 
with renewed delight, the happy contentment of her 
western home on the banks of the sparkling flowing 
river. 

In 1840, the Federal party had ceased to exist ; the 
opponents of Jackson and the system which emanated 
from his administration ha 1 taken the name of the 
Whig party, and Harrison, the sagacious Governor of 
the Northwestern Territory, the successful General, 
and later the farmer of North Bend, was the chosen 
of the peijple, and the idol of his party. 

The canvass, for months before the day of the 
election, carried the most intense excitement and un- 
bounded enthusiasm throughout the Union. The 
pecuniary difficulties of the country, during the past 
administration, left the people an opportunity for po- 
litical gatherings. Financial prostration and hopeless 
bankruptcy paralyzed the various trades ; and in the 
workshop, as in the counting-house, in the streets, in 
the fields, in vacant factories and })arns, in the me- 
chanic's, as in the artisan's room, were heard debates 
of the pending question. Everywliere long proces- 
sions with mottoed banners were seen marching to 
music, and throughout the land was heard the famous 
old •* Tippe(tanoe and Tyler too," and " Van is a used 
up man," campaign songs. Never before or since was 
such interest manifested, and never again will there be 
the same admiration expressed for any aspirant to 



296 ANNA SYMMES IIAlilllSON. 

public honors. Log cabins, iUiistrative of Gejuinil 
Harrison's early days, were " raised " ev^erywliere, and 
" companies " visited from place to place, equip])ed in 
handsome uniforms, and accomj^anied l)y l^ands of 
music. The wliigs struggled manfully to elect tlieir 
candidate, bringing to their service powerful appeals 
in the forms of stirring song, executed by youths in 
the streets, and dwelling continually upon the re- 
sumj)tion of specie payment, revival of languishing 
trade, and public retrenchment and economy. The 
result was such as evejry one expected. General Har- 
rison was elected President by a large majority, and 
John Tyler of Virginia was chosen Vice President. 
Tliis triumj)hant victory brought no sense of pi'ide or 
elation to Mrs. Harrison. She was c^rateful to her 
countrymen for this unmistakable appreciation of the 
civil and military services of her husband, and rejoiced 
at his vindication over his traducers, but she took no 
pleasure in contemj)lating the pomp and circumstance 
of a life at the Executive Mansion. At no period of 
her life had she any taste for the gayeties of fashion 
or th(i dissipations of society. Her friends were ever 
welcomed to her home, and found there refined pleas- 
ures and innocent amusements, but for the life of a 
woman of the world she had no sympathy. 

General Harrison left his home in February, and 
wm received in Washington with every demonstration 
of respect, and welcomed by Mayor Seaton in a speech 
delivered at City Hall. It was raining hard when he 
left the i-ailroad depot, yet he walked with his hat in 
his hand, accompanied by an immense concourse of peo- 



CATSrOES AND LOG CABINS. 297 

pie. He went from Washington to his old home in 
Vii-ginia for n few clays, but returned in time for the 
Inauguration. The morning of the 4th of March, 
1841, was ushered in by a salute of twenty-six guns. 
The day was devoted entirely to pleasure. The city 
of Washington was thronged with people, many of 
M'hom were from the most distant States of the Union 
Tlie procession was in keeping with tlie enthusiasm 
and interest displayed throughout the campaign. 
Ladies thronged the windows, and waved their hand- 
kerchiefs in tolcen of kind feelings, while the wild 
huzzas of the opposite sex filled the air with a deafen- 
ing noise. General Harrison was mounted on a wliite 
charger, accompanied by several personal friends, and 
his immediate escort were the officers and soldiers who 
had fought under him. Canoes and cabins, covered 
with appropriate mottoes, were conspicuous, and the 
scene was one of universal splendor. 

Mrs. Harrison's health, delicate for many years, 
was pai'ticularly frail in February when her husband 
left liome for Washington, and her pliysicians protested 
against her crossing the mountains at that season of 
the year, and urged her remaining in Ohio until the 
opening of spring. General Harrison was accompanied 
to Washington by his daughter-in-law, Mrs. Jane F. 
Harrison, the widow of his namesake son, and her two 
sons. She was a very refined accomplished person, 
and exceedingly popular during her short stay as mis- 
tress of ceremonies at the White House. Besides Mi*s. 
Jane F. Harrison, there were several ladies of the 
President's family residing temj)orarily with her until 



298 ANNA SYMMES irAERISON. 

Mrs. Harrison should come on. Mrs. Findlay, the wife 
of General Findlay and aged aunt of Mrs. Harrison, 
Miss Kamsay, a cousin, and Mrs. Lucy S. Taylor, of 
Richmond, Virginia, a niece of the President's, these 
were the occupants of the mansion the few short 
weeks of the President's life, for in one month from 
tlie day of his inauguration, he died. Pneumonia was 
the avowed cause, but it Avas the applicants for office 
who killed him. He was weak and aged, and unac- 
customed to the confined life forced upon him in his 
new y)osition, and the gentle kindness with which he 
received all who were clamoring for office, did but in- 
spire them with renewed ardor. The whig party had 
l)een out of power many years, and the greed of the 
politicians snapped the tendrils of the veteran's declin- 
ing years and sent him to the tomb before the glad 
notes of the inauguration anthem had died over the 
Virginia hills. President Harrison died the 4th of 
April, 1841, and on the 7th was laid temporarily to 
rest in the Congressional burying-grounds. The ser- 
vice was performed in the White House, by Rev. Mr. 
Hawley, in the presence of President Tyler, ex-Presi- 
dent Adams, members of the cabinet, of Congi-ess, 
and the foreign ministers. The procession was two 
miles in length, and was marshalled on its way by 
officers on horseback carrying white batons with black 
tassels. At the grounds, the liturgy of the Episcopal 
church was recited by Mr. Hawley. "The coffin hav- 
ing been placed in the receiving vault, and the mili- 
tary salute having been fired, the procession resumed 
its march to tho city, and ])y five o'clock that evening 



FROM aiOJlY TO GLORY. 299 

nothing remained but empty strcots, and the emldemg 
of mourning upon the houses, and the still deeper 
gloom which oppressed the general mind with renewed 
power after all was over, and the sense of the public 
bereavement alone was left to fill the thou<]chts. The 
following touching lines, from the gifted pen of N. P. 
Willis, remarkable for their pathos and harmony, need 
no apology for being introduced here. The grandeur 
and simple beauty of the swelling poem deserve a 
more lasting record than transitory verses usually 
receive. 

What soared the old eagle to die at the sun, 
Lies lie stiff with si)read wings at the goal he has wonl 
Are there spirits more blest than the planet of even 
Who mount to their zenith, then melt into heaven? 
No waning of fire, no quenching of ray. 
But rising, still rising, when passing away ! 
Farewell, gallant eagle ! thou'rt buried in light 1 
God-speed unto Heaven, lost star of our night 1 

Death ! Death in the White House ! ah, never before 
Trod his skoletim foot on the President's floor; 
He is looked for in hovel and dreaded in hall, 
The king in his closet keeps liatchments and pall, 
The youth in his birth-place, the old man at home. 
Make clean from the door-stone the path to the tomb ; 
But the lord of this mansion was cradled not here, 
In a churchyard far off stands his beckoning bier : 
He is here as the wave crest heaves flashing on high, 
As the arrow is stojjp'd by its prize in the sky — 
The arrow to earth, and the foam to the shore, 
Death finds them when swiftness and shankle are o'er; 
But Harrison's death fills the diinax of story: 
He went with his old stride from glory to glory. 

Lay his sword on his breast ! there's no spot on its blade 
In whose cankering breatli his bright laurels will fade: 



300 ANNA SYMMES IIARKISON. 

'Twas the first to lead on at liumanity's call, 

It was stay'd with sweet mercy when " glory" was aD ; 

As calm in tlie council as fjsallant in war, 

He fought for his country, and not its " Inirrah ! " 

In the path of the hero with pity he trod, 

Let him pass with his sword to the presence of God 1 

Wliat more? Shall we on with his ashes? Yet stay I ' 

He hath ruled the wide realm of a king in his day ; 

At hi.^ word, like a monarch's, went treasure nnd land, 

The bright gold of thousands has passed through his hand. 

Is there nothing to show of his flittering hoard ? 

No jewels to deck the rude hilt of his sword — 

No tappings— no horses? what had he? But now, 

On, on with his ashes ! ho left but his plough ! 

]>rave old Cincinnatus ! unwind ye his slieet : 

Let him sleej) as he lived, — with his i)urse at his feet. 

Follow now as ye list : the first mourner to-daj 
Is the nation — whose father is taken away. 
"Wife, children, and neighbor may moan at his knell — 
He was " lover and friend" to his country as well ! 
For the stars on our banner grown suddoidy dim 
Let us weep, in our darkness — but weep not for him. 
Not for him, who, departing, leaves millions in tears ; 
JNot for him, who has died full of honor and years : 
From the round at the top he has stei)ped to the sky — 
It is blessed to gt), when so ready to die I 

The members of Pi'esident Harrison's family im- 
mediately vacated the Executive Mansion, and the 
gi-ief-stricken widow ceased the preparations for her 
prolonged absence from home. What a shock this 
death must have l^een to her ! For many months an 
interested spectator, if not an actor, in tlie stiri'ing 
events of the canvass and election, afterward a sharer 
in the triumphs of her husband, and for weeks antici- 
patiug the liappy reunion in the mansion of the Presi- 



A (MIKISTIAN VVIFK AND MOTIIEIJ. 301 

dents, to l)e nuloly torn l)y ftxte from liis j^-csciicc for 
ever, and to see every hope lying cnuslied around lier; 
would have harrowed a nature of coarsest mould. She 
was summoned from the busy care of forwarding some 
matter of interest to l)e told tliat he was dead. Dead! 
she could scarcely believe the evidences of her senses I 
Dead ! or was she mistaken in what was said to lier ? 
His last letter was before her, and slie had scarcely 
ceased reading the accoiuits in the jiapers of the mag- 
nific(!nce of the inaugural balls. 

Howsoever cruel the blow, it Avas borne meekly 
and humbly l)y tlui Christian wife and mother, and she 
aroused herself from the stupor in which the an- 
nouncement had thrown her. 

In July, the remains of the sincerely regretted 
President and deeply mourned husband and f[ither 
were removed to their ])resent resting place at North 
Bend. 

Had ho.Y husband lived, Mrs. Harrison would have 
gone to Washington and discharged faithfully and 
courteously the duties of her position. I5ut her resi- 
dence there would not have been in accordance with 
her wishes or her taste. 

She continued to reside at her old home, where 
the happiest years of her life had Ixicn spent, until the 
autunui of 1855, wlien she removed from the old 
homestead to the residence of her only surviving son, 
lion. J. Scott Harrison, five miles below North Bt;nd, 
on the Ohio River. She remained an inmate of hia 
ftxmily until her death. 

During the latter part of her life, sIk; had many 



302 AKNA SYMMES HARRISON. 

and severe attacks of illness, and perhaps nothing l)iit 
the skill and devoted medical services of her physi- 
cians, and the almost idolatrous attentions of her 
granddaughters, kept the lamp of her life flickering 
so long. Her grandsons, too, claimed their share in 
this " labor of love," and when the telegraph bore to 
their distant homes the tidings of her illness, they 
came with their wives to wait at her bedside, and 
whatever of business was suspended or neglected, their 
attentions to her were not relaxed for a moment. In 
a recent letter received from a OTanddauo-hter of Mrs. 
Harrison's, this paragraph occurs : " Of many of the 
facts of her later life I was an eye-witness, as I was an 
inmate of my father's family for three years previous 
to her death, and had the inestimable privilege of see- 
ing her beautiful Christian resignation and conformity 
to the will of God as life drew to its close. Indeed, it- 
was upon my breast that she breathed her precious life 
away." 

Mrs. Harrison was not indifferent to the political 
events of the asce in which she lived, and few were 
better informed with regard to public men and meas- 
ures than herself. Much of her time she spent in 
reading, during the closing years of her life, and she 
kept herself informed, through the medium of the daily 
papers, of the transactions of the outside world. Very 
few persons of even younger years took a greater in- 
terest in the movements of the armies during the late 
civil war, or could give a more succinct and graphic 
account of the details of a campaign. 

She was not radical in her sentiments, and in« 



A SPARTAN MOTHER. 303 

diiiged in no preconceived prejudices against tlie South 
and its peculiar institutions. In regard to the holding 
of slaves, she was willing that all should be fullj) 
persuaded in their own minds as to its propriety, but 
her own convictions were strongly against it. 

Many of her grandsons were officers and soldiers 
in the Union army, and as occasion would permit, they 
would visit her to ask her blessing and her prayers. 
The one was given, and the other promised with a 
patriotic zeal and ardor that many of the sterner sex 
might well have emulated. 

During the war, a grandson and member of the 
family in which she resided, came home on a brief 
leave of absence. The day of his departure arrived, 
and he went to the chamber of his grandmother to 
take what he supposed to be his last farewell in this 
life, as she was then confined to her bed with a severe 
illness. She received him with great affection, and in 
reply to his expressions of regret at leaving lier, she 
said, "Oh, no, my son, your country needs your servi- 
ces, I do not. Go and discharge your duty ftiithfully 
and fearlessly. I feel that my prayers in your behalf 
will be heard, and that you will be returned in safety. 
And yet, perhaps, I do not feel as much concerned for 
you as I should: I have parted so often with your 
grandfather under similar circumstances, and he was 
always returned to me in safety, that I feel it will be 
the same with you." 

The young Captain did return to see his grand- 
mother again in this life after several hard fought bat- 
tles, in which he received complimentary notice from 



3('4 ANNA SYMI\nCfi IIAKiUSON. 

his coniinaiulino^ oflicers. Ilei" <i;raii(l(l<-iiiL;-!itor says : 
"My liusband, Dr. Eaton, one of lier })liysiciaiLs being 
in tlie liouse and an invalid, spent nmcli of Lis time in 
lier room, and wonld often say to me, 'I never met a 
more entertaining- person tlianyonr grandma. I could 
sit for hours and listen to her conversation.' Such is 
not often said, by a num in the prime of lite, of an old 
lady nearly ninety years of age. Since then he has 
gone to join her in her heavenly home." 

Mrs. Harrison's distinguishing characteristics were 
her Christian humility and total want of selfishness; 
her modest, retiring manners and generosity and be- 
nevolence. She was always anxious to promote the 
well-being of others at her own expense, and sacrificed 
herself for the good of others. 

Many incidents of generosity are reuiembered and 
treasured by her descendants, which though not of 
sufficient interest to record, are of priceless value to 
those who witnessed their exhibition, and were recipi- 
ents of her beneficence. 

Eveiy pul)lic and private charity was near her 
heart, and received liberally from her hand. But those 
who enjoyed her l:>ounty, knew not of its source. To 
a pool' minister she would write : " Accept this trifle 
from a friend." To the Bethel Stibbath-school, "This is 
but a widow's mite." To the suffering poor of the 
city, " Please distribute this from one who wishes it 
was a thousand times more." 

She continued to l)ear on her praying lips the sal- 
vation of lier descendants, and as she drew near the 
closiui^ scene, this was her son^: : 



J)IFA> IKliliUAKY 25, 1804. 305 

" JuHt as T am, witlioiit one [Aca 
But that thy lilood wns Hhod for ine, 
And that thou bidd'at nio coino to thee, — 
O, Lamb of (iod ! 1 conio." 

lier intellectual powers and physical senses were 
retained to the last, and at the age of ei<^hty-ei(^ht sho 
was an a<^reea})le companion for both old and youn^. 

On the evening' of th(i 25tli of F'cjhniary, 1SG4, in 
the eighty-ninth year of her age, Mrs. Harrison died at 
iho residence of her son. 

Tier funeral took ])lace at tlie Pr(;sl)yt(irian Church 
at Cleves, on Sunday, February the 28th. The sermon 
was preached by the llev. Horace Jiushnell, from the 
text, "Be still and knovv^ that I am God." The selec- 
tion was made by herself and given several years be- 
fore to Mr. Bushnell, her pastor and intimate friend for 
many y(!ars. The j-emains were deposited beside those 
of her husband, and they together sleep by the banks 
of the beautiful Ohio at North Bend. 



20 



XIII. 

LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLER. 

The first wife of John Tyler, tentli Presidtuit of the 
United States, was the third daughter of Robert Chris- 
tian, Esq., of Cedar Grove, in JSFew Kent County, in the 
State of Virginia ; a gentleman of good private fortune, 
an earnest Federalist of that day in his political opin- 
ions, and an attaclied friend and adherent of George 
Washington. He possessed the highest social and po- 
litical influence in the county of his residence, and, in- 
deed, throughout the Peninsular District, embraced be- 
tween the York and James rivers. His house was the 
seat of genuine Virginia hospitality, and his neighbors, 
trusting implicitly to his good sense and integrity, ap- 
pealed to his arbitration in matters involving legal 
controversy, in preference to submitting their cases in 
the courts. For many consecutive years, he was not 
only the presiding magistrate of his county, but also 
its representative in the Legislature of the State ; and 
his brothers, among whom was the- late Major Edmund 
Christian, of Creighton, Marshal of Virginia, were men 
of mark and influence. 

This worthy gentleman married in early life Mary 
Brown, an amiable lady of high worth and character, 
with whom he lived in happiness until her death, and 
through whom he was blessed with a large family of 
sons and daughters ; the males being, without exception, 
distinguished for their personal courage, intelligence, 




m' O-ETTD-O-DA (CraiJBDSirOAFa TVLEDS, 



A HARMONIZING UNION". 307 

and graceful appearance and manners, and tlie daugli 
ters for their beauty, piety^ and domestic virtues. 

Among that bevy of fair daughters, Letitia, after- 
ward M]-s. Tyler, born on the 12th November, 1790, 
under the paternal roof at Cedar Grove, was, perhaps, 
the most attractive in her modest refinement and striking 
loveliness of person and character ; and although al- 
wa3^s instinctively shrinking from public observation, 
she was regarded as one of the belles of Eastern Vir- 
ginia. Her hand was sought in marriage by many 
suitois, bnt from the number who presented them- 
selves — some of whom were the possessors of large es- 
tates — her heart and excellent judgment selected the 
then talented and rising young lawyer, who, inheriting 
the unrivalled popularity of his father. Governor John 
Tyler, with a mind still more brilliant and cultivated, 
was just entering upon that remarkable career which 
has so directly and powerfully impressed his genius, not 
only on the history of his noble, old state, but on that 
of the United States of America. 

The marriage of the youthful pair, on the 29th of 
March, 1813, she being in the twenty-second year of 
her age, and he having completed his twenty-third on 
that day, was particularly acceptable to both houses ; 
and Letitia being the idol of her brothers and sis- 
ters, upon Mr. Tyler was at once concentrated 
the unfailing affection and support — an affection and 
support which attended him through life — of every 
member of the numerous and powerful Christian 
fjxmily, harmonizing to no inconsiderable extent in 
Lower Virginia, and uniting in his favor both of 
the great political parties of the da3^ — his own 



308 LETITIA CHRISTIAN TTLEE. 

father having been, privately and publicly, the constant 
friend of Henry and of Jefferson, a leader in tlie 
movement and war of Independence, and the special 
representative of the State Kights Republicans in his 
own rigiit, and Mr. Robert Christian having been the 
constant friend of Washington, and a prominent leader 
and representative man among the Federalists. 

The wedding festivities over, Mr. and Mrs. Tyler 
retired to their own home in Charles City County, a 
part of the " Green way" estate of his father, which at 
once became an object of attraction and intense inter- 
est to the many admirers, friends, and relatives of its 
happy inmates. Dating from this period until Mrs. 
Tyler's death in the Executive Mansion, at the city of 
Washington, nearly thirty years afterward, nothing, 
except the loss of two infant children and her subse- 
quent ill-health, ever transpired to mar the felicity of 
this auspicious nnion. 

In the unselfish, constant, and vigilant affection of 
his wife, in her personal charms, in her strong common 
sense and excellent judgment, in her unaffected religious 
sentiments, in the sv^eet purity of her gentle life, in 
her parental and filial devotion, in her watchful care 
and love for her children, Mr. Tyler found everything 
to satisfy his affections and to gratify his pride. 

In his admitted integrity and worth as a man and 
citizen, in his great intellectual powers, in his con- 
stantly increasing prosperity and rising repntation, in 
the accounts she received of his eloquence both at the 
bar and in the legislature, and in the high official trusts 
which ultimately were literally showered upon him, 



A LOVE-LETTER. 309 

one after the other, almost without intermission ; and 
finally in his tender solicitude to restore her failing 
health and to minister to her slightest wish, she dis- 
covered all that her woman's heart, or her feminine 
ambition required, to complete and secure her wedded 
happiness. The following letter, the first that Mr. 
Tyler ever ventured to address to her before marriage 
and the original of which is still preserved in the fami- 
ly — apart from the natural simplicity of its style and 
the ordinary interest that would attach to it — not only 
pi-eseuts the most unmistakable evidence of the sound 
and healthy sentiments, emotions, and prieciples of 
character associated with both and impelling to their 
union, but it is also a remarkable illustration^ in view 
of a long engagement prior to marriage, of the deli- 
cate tone and exalted purity of the social structure and 
civilization that surrounded them and under whose 
happy influences they were born and reared. 

" Richmond, December 5th, 1S12. 

" Althougli T could not entirely obtain your per- 
mission to write to you, yet I am well aware that you 
will not be displeased at my exercising a privilege so 
valuable to one standing in the relation that I do to 
yon. To think of you and to write to you, are the 
only sources from whence I can derive any real satis- 
faction during my residence in this place. The pre- 
rogative of thinking of those we love, and from whom 
■^e are separated, seems to be guaranteed to us by na- 
ture, as we cannot be deprived of it either by the bus- 
tle and confusion of a town, or by the important duties 



SIO LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLER. 

that attacli to our existence. Believe me, my L., tliat 
tills observation has been completely venfied by me 
since I last saw you, for although deafened by noise, 
and attentive to the duties of my station, yet you are 
the subject of my serious meditations and the object 
of my fervent prayers to heaven. From the first mo- 
ment of my acquaintance with you, I felt the influence 
of genuine affection ; but now, when I reflect upon the 
sacrifice which you make to virtue and to feeling, by 
conferring your hand on me, who have nothing to 
boast of but an honest and upright soul, and a heart 
of purest love, I feel gratitude superadded to affection 
for you. Indeed, I do esteem myself most rich in pos- 
sessing you. The mean and sordid wretch who yields 
the unspeakable bliss of possessing her whom he ardent- 
ly loves, may boast of his ill-acquired wealth, and display 
his treasures in all the pride of ostentation to the 
world, but who shall administer to him comfort in the 
hour of affliction ? Whose seraph smile shall chase 
away the fiends which torment him ? The partner of 
his bosom he neither esteems nor regards, and he 
knows nothino; of the balm which tender affection can 
bestow. Nature will be still true to herself, for as 
your favorite Thomson expresses it, 

" 'Naught but love can answer love, 
Or render bliss secure.' 

" You ex23ress some degree of astonishment, my L., 
at an observation I once made to you, ' that I would 
not have been willingly wealthy at the time that I ad- 
dressed you.' Suffer me to repeat it. If I had been 



YOUES MOST FAITHFULLY. 311 

wealthy, the idea of your being actuated by prudential 
considerations in accepting ray suit, would have eter- 
nally tortured me. But I exposed to you frankly and 
unblushingly my situation in life— my hopes and my 
fears, my prospects and my dependencies — and you no- 
bly responded. To ensure to you happiness is nov7 my 
only object, and whether I float or sink in the stream 
of fortune, you may be assured of this, that I shall 
never cease to love you. Forgive me for these re- 
marks, which I have been irresistibly led to make. 

" Colonel Christian will deliver you this letter, to- 
gether with the two first volumes of the 'Forest of 
Montabano.' I do nob trouble him with the last two 
volumes, for fear of incommoding him, and because I 
sh^ll be at your father''s on Wednesday evening, if the 
business before the Legislature be not very important. 
You will feel much sympathy for the unfortunate An- 
gelina, and admiration for the character of good Father 
Patrick. Frederick is inexplicable until the last vol- 
ume is read. 

" Again suffer me to assure you of my constant es- 
teem and affection, and believe me to be yours most 
faithfully, John Tylee. 

"- To Miss Letitia Christian, 
" New Kent." 

In sending me .this letter through the hands ot 
Major John Tyler, Mrs. Letitia Semple, the only sur- 
viving daughter of Mrs. Letitia Tyler, says, " I enclose 
you a copy of the first letter my father ever wrote to 
ray mother ; and I h^-d a book of original sonnets 
written by him in his youthful da3^s, many of which 



312 LETITIA CnniSTIAN TYI.ER. 

were addressed to her; for he was full of music and 
full of poetry and possessed an exquisite literary taste ; 
but this book has been lost to us, in one of my writ- 
ing desks stolen during the war. 

" My father and my mother were born in the same 
year — that of 1700, he being from the 29th March 
to the 12th JSTovember older than she was. They 
were married on father's twenty-third birthday follow- 
ing that of his birth, after a courtship and engagement 
of nearly five years. He met her for the first time at 
a private party in the neighborhood, while on a visit 
to ' Green way, ' the home residence of giandfiither 
Tyler, in Charles City County, adjoining that of New 
Kent, where grandfiither Christian resided at ' Cedar 
Grove.' He had already taken his collegiate degrees 
at William and Mary College when scarcely more than 
seventeen years old, and was at the time a law student 
in Iliclnnond, under the special ofliee counsel and in- 
struction of the celebrated Edmund Randolph, justly 
esteemed as the father of the Constitution of the United 
States, as Mr. Jefferson was of the Declaration of 
American Independence, and who had been the Attor- 
ney-General of Pi'esident Washington, and the Secre- 
tary of State of President Jefferson, my grandfather 
T}'ler being Governor of Virginia, and then residing in 
Kichmond. After their troth was plighted, he had 
been twice or thrice elected to the State Legislature 
before their marriage was solemnized ; and his last 
visit to her at ' Cedar Grove ' was only three weeks 
before the wedding, yet I have heard him repeatedly 
say that, ' tlien, for the first time, he ventured to kiss 



AN ELEGANT EEFIISrE]\[ENT. 313 

her hand on parting, so perfectly reserved and modest 
had she always been.' 

" My motlier's mother was Mary Brown, of the 
same family with that of the late Judge John Brown, 
of Williamsburg, and Professor Dabney Bi'own, of 
William and Mary College, the former of whom finally 
moved to Kentucky, and the latter more recently to 
California ; and with that of the Hon. James Halybui*- 
ton, late Judge of the United States District Court of 
Virginia, and of the Hon. John M. Gregory, late Judge 
of the Henrico Circuit and Governor of Virginia ; and 
as to the late Judge Christian, and the present Judge 
Christian, of the Peninsular Circuit and of the General 
Court of Virginia, the first was her son, and the last 
her cousin, as are also the present doctors William and 
Edward Warren, formerly of Edentou, North Carolina, 
whither they moved from New Kent in Virginia, but 
now of Baltimore." 

Not long after her marriage, Mrs. Tyler had the 
misfortune to lose both of her parents, and now having 
two less to love in this world, she freely gave the share 
which had been theirs, to her husband and her chil- 
dren, and to her sisters and her brothers. In truth, at 
no period of her life does it seem that she existed for 
herself, but only for those near and dear to her. 

Although she was noted for the beauty of her per- 
son and of her features, for the ease and grace of her 
carriage, for a delicate refinement of taste in dress that 
excluded with precision every color and ornament not 
strictly becoming and harmonizing in the general effect; 
although possessing an acute nervous organization and 
u 



814 LETITIA CimiSTIAlSr TYLER. 

sensitive temperaiuent, combined witli an unusually 
correct judgment ; although any observant stranger 
of polished education vi^ould have been almost uncon- 
sciously attracted to lier among thousands by her air 
of quiet courtesy and benignity ; although with these 
engaging qualities, and the social advantages attaching 
to her position, she could easily have impressed her 
power upon what is termed society had she so desired, 
still she never aspired to wield the sceptre of fashion, 
and never sought to attract attention beyond the lim- 
its of her own family, and the circle of her immediate 
friends and relatives. 

She modestly shrank from all notoriety and evaded 
the public eye as much as possible. She had not the 
faintest wish to enjoy the reputation of authoress or 
wit, or for maintaining an ascendancy in the company 
of brilliant men and women of the world. She was 
perfectly content to be seen only as a part of the exist- 
ence of her beloved husband ; to entertain her neigh- 
bors in her own easy, hospitable, and unostentatious 
way ; to converse with visitors on current topics in- 
telligently ; to sit gently by her child's cradle, reading, 
knitting, or sewing ; or else to while away pleasant 
hours in the endearing companionship of her sisters 
and her intimate acquaintances. 

It appears that, though she resided in Richmond 
during the period that Mr. Tyler was Governor of 
Virginia, and did the honors of the Executive Dwell- 
ing of the State with ease and grace and singular dis- 
cretion, winning the commendation of all at a time 
when the metropolis of Virginia was unexcelled upon 



DOMESTIC CULTURE AND ECONOMY. 315 

tlie American continent, either in respect to elegant 
men or accomplislied women ; yet that she Lad rarely 
visited the city while he was a member of the Legisla- 
tnre, and that during his long term of service as Kep- 
resentative and Senator in the Congress of the United 
States — havino- been three times elected to the House 
and twice to the Senate, — she suffered, herself to be 
persuaded only once to pass a winter in Washington, 
and at the end of another session only reluctantly con- 
sented, at his earnest entreaty, to visit one summer the 
gay centres and resorts of the North. 

When either her own health, or that of her hus- 
band, or that of her children, absolutely required a 
change of air and scene, as several times happened, she 
vastly preferred the bracing temperature and invigor- 
ating atmosphere of the mountains of Virginia and 
the life-imparting Greenbriar waters to the seats of 
more fashion al>le display and empty vanity. She was? 
under all circumstances, the wife and mother, sister 
and friend, apparently living in and for those whom 
she loved, and not for herself. 

No English lady was ever more skilled and accom- 
plished in domestic culture and economy than was Mrs. 
Tyler, and she was never so happy as when in the en- 
joyment of domestic privacy. At her own home she 
was a pattern of order, system, and neatness, as well 
as of hospitality, charity, benevolence, and conscien- 
tiousness in the discharge . of every duty incumbent 
upon the mistress of a large hoiisehold, and scrupu- 
lously attentive to every wish expressed by her hus- 



olO LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLER. 

band as to the management of liis interests in liis al> 
sence on public affairs. 

Nothing escaped lier watchful yet kindly eye, 
either within or witliout the mansion. She loved all 
pure and beautiful things, whether in nature or in art. 
The grounds within the curtilage were tastefully 
arranged in lawns and gardens, and under her imme- 
diate inspection were kept carefully adorned with 
shade trees, and flowering shruT)s, and odoriferous 
plants, and trailing vines, so that in the spring, sum- 
mer, and fall the airs around were literally loaded with 
sweets. The kitchen-garden and fruit-orchards were 
always extensively cultivated. 

The dairy and laundry were sedulously supervised, 
and in all directions poultry and fowls of almost every 
kind most prized foi* the table, were to be seen in 
flocks. She preferred that her servant-women should 
be held to these milder employments, and to spinning 
and weaving, knitting and sewing, rather than being 
assigned to the more onerous tasks of the field upon 
the plantation. 

Thus, under her superintendence, not only were all 
the negro field-hands and negro children comfortably 
provided with clothing of home manufacture and make, 
as well as ministered to with care and supplied with 
all necessary medical attendance when sick, but, at the 
same time, the members of the immediate household 
had their wants, in these respects, for the most part 
bountifully met ; while the rarest and most beautiful 
toilet fabrics, and counterpanes, and coverlets, such aa 
are not now to be had at any price, were produced by 



IlELIGIOUS CirAKAOTEK. 317 

her li;ni(lni;iids, assisted by tliose of the neighl)()rhood 
inheriting' tlie art. Beyond all question, and without 
regard to the portion she brought with her after mar- 
riage, as the gift of her father, which was by no means 
relatively inconsiderable, she maintained by her active 
economy the pecuniary inde})endenee of her husband 
unrler his continued i)ablic employments, in an age of 
public virtue, when the representatives of the peo])le, as 
well as those of the States, received but slight remune- 
ration for their services, and when, in all })robability, he 
would have been, otliervvise compelled to have with- 
drawn from the public councils, and to have relin- 
quished the career of ambition in view of his family 
necessities and requirements. 

Mrs. Tyler was baptized in infancy in the Protest- 
ant Episcopal Church, and in early life became a con- 
sistent communicant. At every stage of her existence 
she was pervaded by a deep religious sentiment, and 
the Bible was h<3r constant companion. For her 
neighborly and charitable nature she was proverbial. 
Although every one who knew her as a young unmar- 
ried lady, and nearly all of her contemporaries in more 
advanced years, are now dead, still her reputation in 
these respects abides among the living, and is i)articu- 
larly referred to and commented upon in every com- 
munication 1 have received concerning her, as well as 
in all of her obituaries that I have I'ead, And one of 
the most beautiful traits in her lovely and almost faultless 
character, in the midst of all her mildness, meekness, gen- 
tleness and amiability, Avas the perfect self-respect which 
constantly attended her, beating in unison with her 



318 LETITIA OIIKlrtTIAN TYLEK. 

true woman's soul, suffering no encroachment upon true 
propriety and decorum in lier presence, and sustaining 
her dignity as a Virginia matron, which never un- 
der any circumstances whatever, deserted her — not 
even under the most intimate relations, as I shall pres- 
ently discover in a letter from one of her sons. 

Indeed, the letters with which I have been favored 
by her surviving children, while confirming all of my 
impressions previously received, and the statements that 
I have made in regard to her, on these points espe- 
cially, enable me to detail still more clearly the inner 
as well as outer life she led, and their narrations are so 
touching and interesting that I unhesitatingly submit 
them to the reader in preference to any thing else, so 
far as they appl}^ Mrs, Robert Tyler, the wife of her 
oldest son, thus wrote concerning her, at her own home, 
in the bosom of her own family in the old city of Wil- 
liamsburg, Virginia, under the first impressions she re- 
ceived after she was married in Peiiasylv^ania. to her sis- 
ters at the North. 

" "WlLLIAMSBUEG, ViKGIOTA, Octobei", 1889. 

* * * tc rj\^Q ijntlal festivities so profusely ex- 
tended to us in Charles City, that most hospitable of 
counties, ended last week.. My honey-moon has 
waned, and I have at last settled down at home. If I 
can ever learn to think any place a home where my 
own dear father and sisters are not, I certainly can do 
so here, for a new father and mother have opened their 
arms and their hearts to me ; new and lovely sisters 
cluster around me ; and I am welcomed and approved 



A BEAUTIFUL LIFE. 319 

of by any number of imcles, auiits, and cousins. The 
introduction to all of them was an awful ordeal to go 
through, you may be sure, but it is happily ove]-, and 
I have now settled myself down absolutely as one of 
Dhe family. I know you want me to tell you of each 
separate member, and of the house, and all my sur- 
roundings. 

"You know how entii-ely charming Mr. Tyler's 
■ather is, for you saw him at my wedding in Bristol, 
out you cannot imagine the tenderness and kindness 
with which he received me, his 'new daughter,' as he 
called me. Mr. TyJer's mother is very much as I im- 
agined her, from his description. She must have been 
very beautiful in her youth, for slie is still beautiful 
now in her declining years and wretched liealth. Her 
skin is as smooth and soft as a baby's ; she has sweet 
loving black eyes, and her features are delicately 
moulded ; besides this, her feet and hands are perfect ; 
and she is gentle and graceful in her movements, with 
a most peculiar air of native refinement about every 
tbingshe sa}s and does. She is the most entirely unself- 
ish person you can imagine. I do not believe she ever 
thinks of herself. Her whole thought and affections 
are wrapped up in her husband and children; and I 
thank God I am numbered with those dear children, 
and can ])artake with them in the blessing of her love. 
May He give me grace to be ever a kind and loving 
dauofhter to her, 
********* * 

" The house is very large and very airy and pleas- 
ant, fronting on a large lawn and surrounded by a 



320 LETI'JIA CIIKISTIAJN" TYLEK. 

most Leautiful gm-den. The parlor is comfortably fur* 
nislied, and has that homelike and occupied, look which 
is so nice. The prettiest thing in it, to my taste, 
though very old-fashioned, is the paper upon the walls, 
wliich depicts in half life-size pictures the adventures 
of Telemachus on Calypso's enchanted Isle. Teleraa- 
chus is very handsome, Calyp'So and her nymphs aa 
graceful as possil)le ; and old Mentor as disagreeable 
and stern as ail Mentors usually are. I find something 
new in the paper every day, aud love to study it. The 
dining-room is opposite the parlor, across a broad pas- 
sage, kept too bright and shiny almost to step upon, 
and is also a very spacious room, with a great deal of 
old family silver adorning the sideboard, and some 
good pictures upon the walls. There are two other 
rooms behind the parlor and the dining-room, one of 
which is used as a sitting and reading room, for it is a 
large double house, flanked by offices in the yard in 
which the library is kept, and one of which is used for 
law and business purposes by Mr. Tyler's father and 
himself. 

" The room in the main dwelling furthest removed 
and most retired is ' the chamber,' as the bedroom of 
the mistress of the house is always called in Virginia. 
This last, to say nothing of others, or of the kitch- 
en, store-rooms and pantries, is a most quiet and com- 
fortable retreat, with an air of repose and sanctity 
about it ; at least I feel it so, and often seek refuge here 
from the company, and beaux, and laughing and talk- 
ing of the other parts of the house ; for here mother, 
with a smile of welcome on her sweet, calm face, is al- 



THE BIBLE AND PRAYER-BOOK. 321 

ways found seated on lier large arm-chair witli a small 
Btand by her side, which holds her Bible and her pray- 
er-book — the only books she ever reads now — with her 
Knitting usually in her hands, always ready to sympa- 
thize with me in any little home-sickness which may 
disturb me, and to ask me questions about all you dear 
ones in Bristol, because she knows I want to talk about 
you. Notwithstanding her very delicate health, moth- 
er attends to and regulates all the household affairs, 
and all so quietly that you can't tell when she does it. 
All th.e clothes for the children, and for the servants, 
are cut out imder her immediate eye, and all the sew- 
ing is personally superintended by her. All the cake, 
jellies, custards, and we indulge largely in them, ema- 
nate from her, yet you see no confusion, hear no bustle, 
but only meet the agreeable result. * * -x- * 
-^- * •^- * All Mr. Tyler's sisters are lovely aiid 
sweet. Sister Mary — Mrs. Jones, who is the oldest of 
all — I have already introduced you to in my letter from 
Charles City, wliere she resides, at ' Woodburn,' one 
of the plantations or ' farms' as they are called here, 
of her husband, and where she so happily entertained 
us recently. Next comes Letitia, Mrs. Semple, mar- 
ried last February. She is very handsome aud full of 
life and spirits. She has a place called ' Cedar Hill,' 
some distance from Williamsburg, in New Kent county, 
but is now here on a visit. Then comes Elizabeth, a 
very great belle here, though she is not yet seventeen. 
She is remarkably sweet and pretty, with beautiful 
eyes and complexion, aud her hair curled down her 
neck John, who is next to Mr. Tyler in age, and 



322 LETITIA CllRISTIAlSr TYLEE. 

who Wcas at my wedding, and therefore needs no de- 
scription, is not here now, but he and his wife will 
spend next winter with his father, as he still attends 
the law department and higher scientific courses of 
William and Mary' college, as it is termed in accord- 
ance with the original charter of King William and 
Queen Mary, although it is now and has been for many 
years a university. 

" I have not seen her yet, but hear that she is very 
beautiful. The two younger children, Alice and Taze- 
well, make up the family. * * The children, 
with all the rest of the family, seem very, very fond 
of me, hut you must not suppose that all this affection 
and kindness makes me vain. It is very comforting 
and sweet, but I know they all love me from no merit 

. of my own, but from the devotion the whole family 
feel for Mr. Tyler, who is idolized by his parents, and 
profoundly loved and respected by his brothers and 

.sisters."* 

* The ancient Tylers of Virginia, of whom but few are left in the 
State, were from a younger branch of the Tylers of Shropshire, in Wales, • 
borduriiig on England. John and Henry, brothers, came to Virginia in 
the beginning of the settlement, and finally took up their abode in the 
"Middle Plantations" between Jamestown and Yorktown, in 1636. 

President Tyler was the fifth John from the first of tlie name. Tlie 
ol.ier line in Shropshire, now divided, still maintain their status tliere, 
ri'presented by the present Sir Charles, son of the late Sir William. The 
Tylers of the North have never been able to trace any connection or 
cnmmon origin with those of Virginia, either in their correspondence 
with the first Governor Tyler, or with President Tyler; but of recent 
yvars many have jjoured into Eastern Virginia, and some have now pur- 
c'lased estates tliat formerly belonged to the ancient Virginia family. 
History in the future will doulttless, u,.der these circumstances, become 
oou fused on llie sulije^t. 



EAELY C0:\tPA]S^10]SrS GONE. 323 

" Mrs. Letltia Semple, in a letter addressed to her 
brother at Washington, and which he has kindly placed 
at my disposal, thus writes : — 

" Nos. 87 & 39 Mount Vernou Place, } *■ 
" Baltimore, March 27th, 1869. \ 

* * * * * * " It is a sad truth, 
but I know of no one now alive who remembers my 
mother in her youth. As late as 1861, there were 
several who had known her from infancy, but now they 
are all gone. We have not an uncle, or an aunt, of all 
our once numerous family, left on earth. The early 
portion of her life must be gleaned from the little in- 
cidents we, her children, may remember to have 
been recited concerning her, by those now dead. Apart 
from ourselves, there are those who may recall some- 
thing of her married life, but these have been scattered 
by the events of the war far and wide asunder. Her 
character was so unobtrusive, and her personal deport- 
ment was so little influenced by a desire to shine be- 
fore the public eye, that those alone best knew her 
who were intimately associated with the family as near 
relatives, or as private friends. Our older and two 
younger sisters are dead; our elder brother, and one 
younger, the one driven by the relentless fates to Ala- 
bama, and the other to California, and you, the sport 
of a similar fatality, together with myself, may recol- 
lect many little things sacred to filial devotion. The 
beautiful aifection ever manifested toward her by every 
member of the family — by her uncles and her aunts, 
by her sisters and her brothei-s, her nephews and her 



324 LETITIA CHKISTIAN TYLER. 

nieces, and by her cousins, male and female — by all, 
without exception — we know of, and can speak to the 
foct. It was with each one of them the unadultei'ated 
affection of the heart for ))iety, purity, and goodness. 
There was nothing else to attract it, for their mere 
worldly circumstances were, in every direction, fully 
equal to her own, and in many instances superior in 
affluence to those she enjoyed. Nothing could have 
exceeded the devotional re2:ard of her sister Anna, the 
owner of the paternal est-arte of Cedar Grove, and who 
in addition to her own inheritance, had derived a large 
fortune by marriage and the early death of her hus- 
band, Mr. Savage. And I have often heard aunt Eliza- 
beth Douglas, her oldest sister, speak of her obedient 
disposition and truthfulness as a child, and of her al- 
most surpassing beauty, grace, elegance, and refinement 
in riper years. We ourselves know how exemplary 
a wife and mother she was. One of the earliest me- 
mories I have of her is, that she taught me my letters 
out of the family Bible. Over and often can I recall 
her witli a book in her lap, reading and reflecting, 
while her fino;ers were knittino- or stitchinix for some 
of us ; or while watching over us until a late hour of 
the night, in the absence of our father upon his public 
duties. 

" You know that these days of our childhood were 
days of struggle with our father, under heavy security 
oljligations, and she had but one idea apart from con- 
jugal piety and affection, and that was to save him 
from every care and every expense in her powTr. 

" His ])ecuniai'y independence was preserved, and 



A HUSBA^VD CONSULTS HIS WIFE. 325 

much of his success was secured, through her economy^ 
her diligence, her providence, and her admirable self 
sacrificing demeanor. I have frequently heard oui 
father say that he rarely failed to consult her judgment 
in the midst of difficulties and troubles, and that she 
in\ ariably led him to the best conclusion, and that he 
had never known her to speak unkindly of any one. 
She was permitted to see him fill the highest office in 
the gift of his country, but before he was suffered to 
enter into his rest from political life, she had gone to 
that rest remaining for the people of God. She died, 
as you know, on the 10th September, 1842, in the 
Executive IVIansion at Washington, where her third 
daughter, our sister Elizabeth Waller, had been short- 
ly before married, and ^vhere two of her grandchildren 
now living, — the oldest daughter of our brother Rob- 
ert, named Letitia, and the youngest son of our sister 
Mary, named Robert, were born. 

" You remember her fondness for flowers. Her fa- 
vorite flower was the monthly damask rose, and that 
brought in to her on the morning of the da}' of her 
death, was found clasped in her hand when the spirit 
was fled. From the time that she had been first 
stricken b}^ paralysis, her health had been frail, Imt 
none of us anticipated an immediate, or even an early 
renewal of the_ attack, and far less a sudden dissolu- 
tion of her system ; and I had closed my last visit to 
her only a few days before, and had gone to ' Cedar 
Grove ' to inform aunt Anne of the condition in which 
I had left her, as if the sad Fates had carried me there 
to be ready to leceive htT remains, returning to the 



326 LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLER. 

place of their birth to repose, in their separation from 
her husband, by the side of those of her father and 
her mother, as when first quickened into life ; but our 
sister Elizabeth Waller, and our aunt Elizabeth Doug- 
las, ^vere with her, and witnessed her last breath, and 
they told me this particularly sweet circumstance of 
her favorite rose still clinging to her hand in death. 

These letters, taken with the obituaries su])joiued, 
aud the lines of Mr. Sargent, together with other 
communications descriptive of the daily social routine 
in the " White House" at this epoch, which remain to 
be submitted and cannot fail to interest, leave but lit- 
tle necessary to fill out and perfect the portraiture of 
one of the loveliest characters in history. 

Upon the accession of her husband to the presi- 
dential ofiice in the beginning of April, 1841, Mrs. 
Tyler proceeded with him to the Executive Mansion 
of the nation, at Washington, but with many sighs 
and tears at parting with hev own home, aud without 
the thought of personal triumphs in the world of fash- 
ion and display. She resigned herself to the change 
simply to be with her loved ones, and to receive the 
tender care and attention of those in wdiom she liter- 
ally " lived and had her being." Her health had be- 
come greatly impaired from a severe attack of illness 
during the year 1839, and her condition remained as 
has been described by her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Rob- 
ert Tyler, then to have been in the month of October. 
Ne\^ertheless, in all the piivate apartments of the 
President's Mansion, the same modes of life were main- 
tained to those to which she had ever been accustomed. 



DEVOTED CIITLDREN. 327 

Her sisters and l)rothers and otlier relatives, as well 
as her cliildren, still hovered around her, as they had 
always done, with increased and increasing affection as 
they discovered her frame l)ecoming somewhat more 
feehle. She passed her time chiefly in their society, 
receiving but few visitors and returning no visits. 
Her health, indeed, required that she should delegate 
to some one of her married daughters the semi-official 
duties of her j)osition. 

For the greater part of the time, her own married 
daughters, Mrs. Jones * and Mrs. Semple, were com- 
pelled by their domestic duties, in the line of the pri- 
vate affairs and personal interests of their husbands, to 
]'emain at their respective residences in Virginia, but 
frequently coming to Washington, for brief periods, it 
is true, through solicitude for her health and to bestow 
their affection upon her ; and as regards her two re- 
maining daughters, Elizabeth, afterward Mrs. Waller, 
was just grown up to womanhood, and was not yet 
married ; and Alice, afterward Mrs. Henry M. Deni- 
son,f was still but a child. However, it fortunately 



* Mary, the first cliild and oldest daughter of Mrs, Letitia Tyler, in 
her features bore a marked but refined and delicate likeness to her father, 
and strikingly blended in her character the admirable attributes of both 
father and mother. She was a lady of the most exalted worth and lovely 
mould. She married, at an early age, Mr. Henry Lightfoot Jones, of 
Charles Oity County, Virginia, and died after her raothei', leaving an in- 
fant daugliter that soon followed her spirit, and three sons, two of whom 
only survive, Henry and Robert, wlio fought in the ranks in Lee's army, 
both being mentioned in orders, and the latter of whom, born in the 
"White House," was promoted for a feat of daring gallantry and three 
wounds received at Gettysburg, to a first-lieutenancy. 

t Alice, fourth and last daughtur of Mrs. Letitia Tyler, resembled her 
mother iu features more than any oLlier child. She married, years after 



328 LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLKIl. 

SO liappened that her oldest son and his wife had not 
permanently located themselves in life since their re- 
cent inarriag-e, and it was considered best they should 
continue in the femily. Sometimes, on the temporary 
visits of Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Scrapie, all her married 
daughters would appear together in the Reception- 
rooms ; but under the circumstances, the constant task 
of representing her mother, in respect to the honors of 
the establishment, was delegated, with the consent of 
the President, to Mrs. Robert Tyler,* a lady of ad- 
mirable culture and address, to whom she was, as well 
as the rest of the family, devotedly attached as to her 
own daus^hter. One of the few occasions on which she 
assented to appear personally in the public Reception- 
rooms, before a large and distinguished assemblage of 
men and women associated with the world of fashion 
and that of politics and diplomacy, was that of the 



her mother's de ith, the Rev. Heury M. Denison, of Wyoming, Pennsyl- 
vania, .1 clergyman of marked ability, eloquence, and conscicntiousne-s, 
of tlic Protestant Episcopal Ohurcli, and Rector, at the time, of old 
Briiton Parish Church, at Williamsburg, Virginia. She died while he 
was assistant tu the Bishop of Kentucky, at Louisville, and he died while 
Rector at Ohurleston, Soutli Carolina, a victhn to his high sense of duty 
to his congregatioa during the prevalence of the yellow fever in that city 
before the war. They left an infant daughter named Elizabeth, who has 
been reared and educated. by her aunt, Mrs. Letitia Tyler Semple. 

* Mrs. Robert Tyler, wife of the second child and oldest son of Mrs. 
Letitia Tyler, is the daughter of Thomas Abthorpe Cooper, the distin- 
tingnished tragedian, an English gentleman, ward and nephew of Good- 
win the political economist, pupil of Holcroft, and friend and relative ot 
Shelley the poet. Her mother was the daughter of Major Fairlee, of 
New York, an officer of the Revolutionary War of Independence, and of 
the Governor Yates and Vaaness family. Her eldest daughter, named 
after her grandmother, Letitia Christian, was born in the White House. 



A MAKKIAGE IN THE WHITE HOUSE. 329 

marriage of lier daugliter Eliza])8th, and is thus por- 
trayed by Mrs. Robert Tyler shortly afterward, in a 
letter addressed to her relatives near Philadelphia. 

"Washington, February, 1842. 

* * * " Lizzie * has had quite a grand 
wedding, although the intention was tliat it should 1)8 
quiet and private. This, under the circumstances, 
though, was found impossible. The guests consisted 
of Mi's. Madison, the members of the cabinet, with 
their wives and daughteis, the foreign ministers near 
the government, and some tew personal friends, outside 
of the family and their relatives. 

" Lizzie looked surpassingly lovely in her wedding 
dress and long blonde-lace veil ; her face literally cov- 
ered with blushes and dimples. She behaved remark- 
al)ly well, too ; any quantity of compliments were paid 

* Elizabeth, third daughter of Mrs. Letitia Tyler, was married to Mr. 
William Waller, of Williamsburg, Virginia, in the east room of the Presi- 
dent's Mansion, at Washington, on the thii'ty -first day of January, 1842, 
in the 19tli year of her age. In character she greatly resembled her 
mother, and s'lowed much of her early beauty and grace. Her oldest 
son, named William, resigned from the West Point military school and 
married during the recent war between the States, the youngest sister of 
the wife of President Davis, in the Executive Mansion of the Confederate 
States, at Richmond. And her second son, John, though a mere lad, was 
isillpd diu'ing tiie v/ar, "fighting for his mother's grave," to use his own 
words. An >tiier son, Robert, and a daughter, Mary, had been born to 
lier before she died. Her children, through tlieir great-grandfather, the 
first socetary of the Americm Colonial Congress, and their great-grand- 
mother, his wife, the sister of the Earl of Traquaire, and whose grandson 
is the present titular Earl, bears in their veins, probably, the nearest liv- 
mg blood to that of Queen Mary Stuart, of Scotland, whoso name her 
daughter bears. 



330 LETITIA CHKISTIAN TYLEE, 

to her. I heard one of her bridesmaids express to Mr 
Webster her surprise at Lizzie consenting to give up 
her belleship, with all the delights of Washington so- 
ciety, and the advantages of her position, and retire to 
a quiet Virginia home. ' Ah,' said he, 

' Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, 
And love is heaven, and heaven is love.' 

****** 

" Our dear mother was down-staii-s on this occasion 
for the fii'st time, in so large a circle, since she has been 
in Washington. She gained by comparison with all 
the fine ladies around her. I felt proud of hei-, in her 
perfectly faultless, yet unostentatious dress, her face 
shaded by the soft fine lace of her cap, receiving in her 
sweet, gentle, self-possessed manner, all the important 
people who were led up and presented to her. She 
Avas far more attractive to me in her appearance and 
bearing than any other lady in the room, and I believe 
such was the genei-al impression. Somebody says, ' the 
highest order of manner is that which combines digni- 
ty with simplicity ;' and this just describes mother's 
manner, the charm of which, after all, proceeds from 
her entire forgetfulness of self, and the wish to make 
those around her happy.'' * * * * 

Major Tyler enables me to glean further facts and 
incidents as to the modes and inmates of the Executive 
Mansion during this period, before which all confusion 
of idea vanishes. He says : — 

" I was for more than three years ' Major Domo" 
of the establishment, and to the last i)rivate secretary, 



SERVICES WITliOUT PAY. 331 

bu.t never to this day have received from the Govern- 
ment, directly or indii-ectly, one dollar for my services 
in either capacity. My mother's health was entirely 
too delicate to permit hei' to charge herself with the 
semi-official social requirements of the mansion, and 
my married sisters being unavoidably absent for the 
most of the time, the task devolved upon Mrs. Robert 
Tyler to represent my mothei" on stated occasions. She 
continued in the role of honors, as they are termed, 
until after my mother's death, and my brother made 
his arrangements to practise law in Philadelphia, by 
which time it also happened that Mi'. Semple's affairs 
became diflei'ently accommodated, and he proceeded to 
sea as a Purser in the United States Navy, when my 
sister Letitia * Ijecame at liberty to take up her abode 
in Washington. Accordingly, both the President and 
myself now addressed to her letters, inviting her to as- 
sume the position and duties of Hostess of the White 
Plouse, which she consented to do and so acted until 
May, 1844. 

" During my mother's life, and uj) to this date, ah 
ways contemning pretension and worldly vanity, w^e 
lived in the 'White House' as we lived at home, save 
that we were obliged to have rather more company. 

* Letitia, the second and only surviving daugliter and fourtli child uf 
Mrs. Letitia Tyler, married in early life the nephew and adopted son of 
Jndge Scrapie, of Williamsburg, Virginia, whn reared and educated liiic 
to manhood, his own father, a brother of the Judge, as well as his mother 
dying in Ins infancy, leaving him by will a handsome fortune. The 8om- 
ples are of the family of the Earls Dundonald, of Scothuul, and of tlie 
same branch with that of the celebrated Blaii-, appointed by King James 
the hrst commii?sioncr of Virginia, and who was afterward President of 
William and Mary College. 



332 LETITIA CIIKISTIAN TYLER. 

less select as to true worth than was altogether agree* 
able. In the course of the ' fashionable season,' and 
while the sessions of the Congress lasted, we gave two 
dinner parties each week, very much after the plain, 
substantial Virginia manner and style, to the first of 
which, usually confined to gentlemen from diffei'ent 
parts of the country visiting Washington, and who had 
shown respectful attention to the President and family, 
twenty guests were always invited ; and to the second, 
usually emT)racing both, ladies and gentlemen from 
among the dignitaries of the different departments of 
the Federal and State governments, and the diplomatic 
corps of foreign governments, fort}^ persons were in^ 
vited, making in either case quite a full table. 

" Our drawing rooms, as at home, were open every 
evening informally until 10 o'clock — never later — ■ 
when the family rose and retired, and doors ^vere 
closed. Before my mother's death, we gave occasion- 
ally during the winter montlis, by special invitations, 
in tlie general reception-rooms, a private ball, attended 
with dancino;, but terminatino; at 11 o'clock. In addi- 
tion to these private entertainments and strictly social 
converse, we introduced at this period — for the first time 
it liad l:)een done— music on the grounds of the south 
front of the Mansion, on the Saturday evenings of each 
week during the mild weather of the spring, summer, 
and fall, for the recreation of the public at large ; and 
to a similar end a public levee was held once a month, 
in addition to the general receptions on the first day 
of January and the Fourtli of July, of each year. 

"Nothing whatever preceded by cards of invita- 



IRVING AND DIGKENS. 338 

tion was permitted to be considered in any other ligLt 
than as a private affiiir of the Presidential family, with 
which the world outside and the public press had 
nothing whatever to do, just precisely as if we had 
been in our own house in Williamsburg. Even in re- 
spect to the public receptions mentioned, the Madison- 
ian was never suffered to indulge in a description 
either of the persons or characters present, in an indi- 
vidualizino- manner, after modern usao;es, and no en- 
couragement was given to any one so to do. I send 
you a specimen of the only sort of notice, even in the 
latter case, that was regarded as at all admissible 
while my mother lived. Any thing more particular 
would have shocked her delicate sense of propriety, 
and been absolutely offensive to the President. 

The Madiaoniau, Washington, Monday, March 17, 1842. 
"THE LAST LEVEE OF THE SEASON. 

"The levee held by the President on Tuesday eve- 
ning last, was a brilliant afKiir, and gave satisfactory 
evidence of the esteem in which that high functionary 
is held in social circles. 

" Among the visitors of peculiar note were the 
distinguished authors of the ' Sketch-Book,' and of the 
' Pickwick Papers,' in addition to whom almost all the 
Ministers of Forei2:n Powers to our Government were 
in attendance in full court dress. 

"The rooms were filled to overflowing with the 
talent and beauty of the metropolis, whilst Senators 
and Members of Congress, without distinction of party, 
served to give interest and to add animation to the 



334 LETITIA CinilSTlAN TYLER. 

Bceue. It seems to us that these levees, as at present 
conducted, are peculiarly adapted to the genius of our 
Kepublican institutions, inasmuch as all who please 
may attend without infringement of etiquette. We 
almost regret their termination for the season, but look 
forward with pleasure to the j)eriod when they will 
be renewed." 

" 1 may say that this notice, as restrained as it is, 
bears internal evidence showing that it would not have 
been made but for the necessity of informing the pub- 
lic in some indirect manner of the termination of the 
public receptions for a season. I find none other. In 
another column, and in quite a different connection, the 
Madisonian says: 'The Richmond Whig admits, and 
we heartily concur in the sentiment, that Mr. Tyler, 
in his appointment of Washington Irving, the author 
of the ' Sketch Book,' as Minister to Spain, has paid a 
just tribute to the most distinguished ornament of 
American letters.' Scarcely any notice appears of the 
marriage of my sister Elizabeth in the preceding Jan- 
uary, that being regarded as a purely family matter. 

" Allow me one word more, in conclusion, pertain- 
ing to tlie subject. Such was the bitterness of party 
feeling toward us, that no appropriation was made 
by Congress either for furnishing the house, or for the 
office of private secretary, or for the incidental ex- 
penses of fuel, lights, door-keepers, messengers, &c., 
that are now so abundant as really to double the sal- 
ary of the Executive Office over what it then was. I 
left Washington with my private means exhausted, 
and scarcely able to get home in Virginia, only there 



OPPORTUNITY FOR SPECULATIOTST. 335 

to encounter additional trouble tlirougli tlie fact, aL 
thougli it was perfectly in my })ower in various ways, 
but particularly through the management of the pul)- 
lic revenues under the repeal of the Sub-Treasury Bill 
and the veto of the Bank Bill — ^the first being intend- 
ed to operate compulsorily in favor of the last — to 
have constituted myself the private recipient of fabu- 
lous sums of money, without the public being either 
the loser or the wiser. And, but for the fortunate sale 
of a valuable tract of land which my father owned in 
Kentucky, acquired years before, worth now as many 
tens of thousands as the thousands that he realized 
from it, and which before sellinfr he offered to deed to 
me in consideration of my constant devotion to him, 
and particularly for my faithfulness at the time of the 
offer, but which I declined accepting upon a certain 
pecuniary understanding with him in relation to my 
sisters that after-events, however, frustrated, he also 
would have been greatly straitened in his circumstan 
ces, and been driven to the necessity of practising law 
again after retiring from the Executive Office. But 
with the funds thus realized he purchased ' Sherwood 
estate on the James Kiver, and the summer residence 
near Hampton, and made himself comfortable. He 
never received one dollar without a full equivalent re- 
turn, after leaving the Presidential Mansion to the day 
of his death, from any other source than this and the suc- 
cessful cultivation of the lands so purchased — all other 
statements and speculations and false colorings to the 
contrary notwithstanding." 

No percej^tible change in Mrs. Tyler's condition of 



336 LETITIA CIIIIISTIAIN^ TYLEK. 

liealtli occuiTc'd mitil Friday, tlio lOtli day of Se])teni« 
ber, 1842. On tlie morning of that day, her family 
physician detected a change unhappily for the woivse, 
and a threatened ivnewal of paralysis. He instantly 
called in consultation others of the faculty, and every 
thing Avas promptly applied devised by the skill of the 
profession to ^vard off the fatal stroke, I^ut all in 
vain. On the evening of the next day, Saturday, Sep- 
tember the 10th, at eight o'clock, the hour came fo'r 
her to be joined to her fathers. A pious connnuni- 
cant of the church of Christ, innocent in soul as a lit- 
tle child, crowned with the virtues which had marked 
her usefid and unselfish life, fearino; and lovino; God, 
reverencing her husband, adoring and adored by her 
children — she passed into the heavenly kingdom pal- 
pitating with the immortal joys of a spirit released 
from every earthly pain and sorro^v. On Sunday, the 
Executive Mansion stood arrayed in mourning, and the 
tolling of the bells of the city announced the sad visi- 
tation to those among the living. Every honor that the 
sincerest respect and the purest love and the sense of 
a bitter bereavement could suggest, was paid to her re- 
mains. A committee of the citizens of AVashiugton 
conveyed her body, after it had laid in state in the east 
room for several days, to the family burial ground at 
the old paternal residence in New Kent County, and 
there, in the midst of a soiTowing asseml)lage of rela- 
tives and friends and neighbors who had known her 
from l)irth, the parting tears of her husband and her 
children, gushing up from the fountain of their hearts, 
were shed upon her coffin ere it was deposited in the 



DEATH OF MRS. TYLEE. 337 

earth, wliere reposed already tlu; dust of her parents 
and of otjiers she had loved, and who fondly loved her. 

Thus Jived and died Mr.s, Letitia Tyler, wife of the 
last of the Virginia Presidents of the Uiiitiid States, a 
model of the exalted civilization of the " ancient com- 
monwealth and dominion," a representative of her sex 
worthy of their grateful memory, an honor to the hu- 
man family, and a child of God. 

I do not know how this brief and defective yet 
])erfectly truthful sketch of this admirable woman can 
be better closed than by the puljlication of the obitua- 
ries presented to the world, at the time of her decease, 
by tlie Washington Journals, from the immediate 
hands of their accomplished and disinterested edi- 
tors, followed by the beautiful el(;:^^y composed on 
her death. 

The National Intelligencer, Washington, Monday 
morning, September 10th, 1842. 

OBITUARY. 

" There is no part of our professional duty so pain- 
ful to us as that of announcing the departure from this 
life of individuals of honorable and enviable veimte, 
and whose personal virtues render their deaths deeply 
afflictive dispensations to a large and affectionate fam- 
ily, and to a wide circle of relatives and friends. 

" Sucli is the duty which we have now to perform, 
of announcing the death of Mrs. Letitia Tyler, wdfe of 
the President of the United States. 

" This most estimable lady was in life, more truly 
than we can represent her in words, a wife, a mother, 

15 



338 LETITIA CHEISTIAX TYLER. 

and a Cliristian — loving and confiding to Ler husband, 
gentle and affectionate to her children, kind and chari 
table to the needy and the afflicted. Deeply impressed 
in early life by her highly respected and pious parents 
with the truthful and heavenly doctrines of the meek 
Jesus, in all her actions, with whatever sphere in life 
connected, self was forgotten by her, and the good of 
others alone remembered, which won for her wherever 
she was known, the love and esteem of all. 

" Tlie pure spirit which animated her to such vir- 
tuous and exemplary deeds, fled to the bosom of its God 
at eiglit o'clock, on Saturday night the 10th inst. 

" Her funeral Avill take place at the President's Man- 
sion, at four o'clock this evening, Monday 12th Septem- 
ber. The reverend clergy, and the friends and acquain- 
tances of the family are invited to attend." 

" The Daily GlobeT 

Washington, Moadny Evening, September 12th, 1842. 
OBITUAKY. 

" Mrs. Letitia Tyler, wife of the President of the 
United States, expired at eight o'clock, on the evening 
of Saturday last. 

" She had been, for some years past, a patient suf- 
ferer from paralysis, preserving in tlie midst of the 
afflictions it brought the amenity of manners, gentle- 
ness of temper, and anxious liberal benevolence, which 
distinguished her from early life. Years before Mrs. 
Tyler reiched the exalted station — in which every indi- 
vidual attribute looms more lara:elv than in humble 



OBITUARY NOTICES. 339 

life — we liad, from a lady in Riclimond, Virginia, where 
sbe had resided during the period her husband was 
Governor of that State, a sketch of her character and 
attributes, then in perfect health and adorned with 
beauty, which impressed us with the idea that Mr. 
Tyler had been still more fortunate in his domestic 
than in his public life. She was represented to us as 
one of the most benign and amiable of human beings, 
with all the endearing qualities of wife, mother, and 
friend, while possessing a fine understanding. Her 
good influence was felt throughout the whole circle in 
which she moved. 

" The funeral service is to be performed over her 
remains, at the President's Mansion, this evening. 
They will be removed to-morrow for interment in Vir- 
ginia." 

" The Madisoniany 

Washington, Tuesday Morning, September 13th, 1842. 
OBITUAKT. 

" Again death has winged a fatal shaft at the Palace 
of the Presidents. The first pierced the breast of a 
President, and this has stricken down the consort of 
one. All the ways of Providence are wise and just ! 
We cannot but mourn, yet we must submit in humility. 
When our paper for Monday morning went to press on 
Saturday evening — for we do no work on the Sabbath 
day — we expected, and so intimated, from what we 
had heard, that before the morning the consort of the 
Chief Magistrate would be no more among the living 
-and so it was. 



340 LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLER. 

" On Sunday, a gloom seemed -to pervade tlie city. 
An expression of sorrow and condolence was observed 
on most faces. Party feelings were buried for the 
time. The Kector of St. John's Church, Dr. Hawley, 
announced in feeliuo- terms the sad event to the con- 
gregation during the morning service. The President's 
pew was draped in black and tenantless. Mrs. Tyler 
was a communicant of the Episcopal Church. 

" On Monday, obituary notices, as brief and chaste 
as they are just and true, were prepared and published 
in the National Intelligencer, and the Daily Grlobe, by 
Mr. Joseph Gales, and Mr. Francis P. Blair, in their 
respective editorial columns. 

" At four o'clock, p. m., on Monday, the funeral ser- 
vices were performed, and a sermon for the occasion 
was preached by Dr. Hawley, at the President's Man- 
sion, in the presence of an immense concourse of citi- 
zens. 

** Flowers were strewn over the bier — fit emblems 
of fading mortality. 

" The mute grief of the stricken Chief Magistrate 
and his afflicted family found a sympathetic throb in 
every bosom. 

"Never did we witness a more impressive scene. 
Cabinet Ministers, Senators, and Members, without 
distinction of party — the rich and the poor, aye ! the 
humblest, always found access to the depai-ted — were 
there and mourned with the bereaved family. 

" The President, accompanied by those members of 
his household and relatives of the family who were 
sojourning in Washington left the city this morning, 



HER BURIAL IN VIRGINIA. 341 

Tuesday, 13th September, in attendance on her mortal 
remains, to be interred at Cedar Grrove, in 'New Kent 
County, Virginia, the place of her birth, and where she 
was married under the paternal roof. 

" Mrs. Tyler was the daughter of Mr. Robert Chris- 
tian, who enjoyed, during a long life, the confidence 
and esteem of all who knew him, and who served for 
many years as a member of the Virginia Legislature. 
She was born on the 12th of November, 1790, was 
married to Mr. Tyler on the 29th of March, 1813, 
was bap tidied in the Protestant Episcopal Church in 
early life, and died in the fifty-second year of her age. 
She was stricken with paralysis nearly four years ago. 
The blow was extremely severe, and although by the 
kind and unremitting attentions bestowed on her, un- 
der the direction of able physicians, she was restored 
to a condition of comparative comfort, yet her sys- 
tem remained greatly shattered, and her health con- 
tinued evermore precarious. Indeed, it became indis- 
pensably necessary that she should forego, to a great 
extent, the enjoyment of those social circles which she 
had previously adorned. Her family have continually 
watched over her with the greatest anxiety, and Dr. 
Thomas has been assiduous in his almost daily visits to 
the President's Mansion for many months, in recogni- 
tion of the profound affections centeriug in her. But 
though it was seen that she was gradually fading away 
beneath the cruel disease under which she labored, no 
apprehensions of an early dissolution were anticipated 
until Friday the 9th instant, when Dr. Sewell, at the 
instance of Dr. Thomas, was called in as advising phy- 



342 LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLEE. 

sician. She continued thereafter to declhie, until eiirht 
o'clock on Saturday night, the 10th instant, when she 
breathed her last, surrounded by her sorrowing family 
and relatives. Pier end was quiet and tranquil, like 
one falling from weariness into profound slumber, ex- 
hibiting a mind at rest with itself and a heart of vir- 
tue. She was, 'in life,' as has been most truly re- 
marked by the National Intelligencer, and substan- 
tially repeated in the Daily Globe, ' a wife, a mother, 
and a Christian, loving and confiding to h.er husband, 
gentle and affectionate to her children, kind and chari- 
table to the needy and the afflicted ; ' and in death she 
sleeps the sleep of the righteous and the beloved of 
Heaven ! 

" The President, after paying the last sad rites to her 
remains, will, we learn, pass a few days with his daugh- 
ter, Mrs. Letitia Semple, at her residence in New Kent 
County, and then take up his abode at the Rip Raps, 
in complete retirement and seclusion until the near ap- 
proach of the time for the reassembling of the Con- 
gress. 

"The secretaries of the government will attend the 
exequies to Virginia ; and General Hunter, the mar- 
shal of the district, Mr. Fendall, the district attorney, 
General John Eaton, late of the cabinet of Pi-esident 
Jackson, General John Mason, Major Nutt, Major No- 
land, Major Dade, and other citizens, will proceed as 
pall-bearers to the interment and final rest of the body 
in the burial ground where rejx>se the ashes of her 
father and her mother. 

" No pearl ever inhabited its shell more pure than 



ELEGY. 343 

the soul, now, we fondly believe, dwelling witli its God 
that quickened into being and maintained existence on 
earth enshrined in the form of Mrs. Letitia Tyler." 

'' The Sun.:' 

Baltimore, Saturday, September 17th, 1842. 
ELEGY 

On the death of Mrs. Letitia Tyler, wife of the Presi- 
dent of the United States, in the Executive Mansion 
at Washington, September lOtb, 1842. 

"Husheil be tlie air! let no rude breath 

Disturb lier dreamless sleep, 
While angels round her silent bier 

Their holy vigils keep ! 
Faintly her spirit passed away, 
Like the last loveliest streak of day 

That f;ides upon the deep — 
A farewell beam, which love in vain 
Seeks fondly tt) illume ag.-iin. 

Hark! from afar, like Sabbath chimes, 

Is heard a nation's wail ! 
In plaintive accents, sad and low, 

It swells ujion the gale : — 
From Mississippi's turbid waves 
To where St. John's dark current laves 

The border foeman's trail. 
Its lingering echoes rise and fall 
Like death-chants in a funeral hall. 

We mourn, but not like those whose hopes 

In fetters cling to earth ; 
The trance we deem thy signet, Death, 

But marks the spirit's birth : — 
While memory paints her soaring mind, 
Her seraph form, her soul refined, 



344 LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLER. 

Her loveliness and worth, 
"We feel that, like tlic stricken dove, 
She's fled uuto her home of love. 

Yet o'er thy grave, departed one I 

Unbidden tears will start, 
And mournful sobs the bosom heave, 

Mute offering of the heart ! 
Manhood and youth, and tottering age, 
Will there perform a pilgrimage. 

From the rude tliroug apart: — 
While maid and matron join to tell 
The gifts that from her bounty fell. 

Virginia 1 from thy diadem 
A priceless gem has fled ! 
The peerless daughter of thy pride 

Is numbered with the dead ! 
Thy young and joyous croAvds no more 
Will throng around her welcome door, 

By her sweet counsels led — 
Nor will the music of her voice 
Again her children's hearts rejoice. 

But let no cypress o'er her tomb 

Its gloomy influence throw; 
Its chilling shade would ill reflect 

Her soul who sleeps below. 
Flowers of the richest perfume there 
Should fling tlieir breath upon the air • 

And crystal streamlets flow ; 
That fond affection there may find 
Meet emblems of her heavenly niiad." 



XIV. 

JULIA GARDINER TYLER. 

President John Tyler was married to Miss Julia 
Gardiner the 26tli day of June, 1844, at the Church 
of the Ascension, New York City. Immediately after 
the wedding, the bridal party returned to the White 
House, where they held a grand reception in lieu of 
the usual wedding festivities. It was the first, and up 
to the present time, the only instance of the marriage 
of a President, and the affair created great excitement 
and interest throughout the United States, heightened 
doubtless by the recollection of the tragic death of the 
father of the bride, a few months previous. 

Miss Gardiner was the daughter of a wealthy gen- 
tleman residing on Gardiner's Island, and the eldest of 
three children. Her education, contmued at home un- 
til her sixteenth year, was completed at the Chegary 
Institute, in New York City. Immediately after the 
termination of her school life, she accompanied lier 
father to Europe. Peturning fi-om abroad after an ex- 
tended tour, she visited, during the sitting of Congress, 
the National Capital, and there for the first time met 
the distinguished man to whom she was afterward 
married. 

It was while on a visit to Washington in the win- 
ter of 1844, that Mr. Gardiner and his young daughter 
were invited by Captain Stockton to accompany a large 
party of the Presidejit's friends to Alexandria, and on 



346 JULIA GARDINER TYLER. 

the return trij), wlien just opposite to the fort, all tlie 
gentlemen were invited on deck to witness the tiring 
of the " peace-maker." Many of the party, who were 
all partaking of a collation, responded to the invita- 
tion : amono: the number the father of Miss Gardinei*. 
The explosion startled the President, who with the 
ladies had remained beloAV, and in a moment the 
piercing cries of the wounded fdled the hearts of the 
passengers with terror. Death had made fearful 
havoc, and the living waited in bi'eathless anxiety for 
the announcement of the names of the victims. 

The bodies were conveyed to the White House, 
where the funeral services were preached, and the last 
sad rites performed. 

The following summer Miss Gardiner was married, 
and from that time until the close of her husband's 
administration, a period of eight months, she did the 
honors of the Executive Mansion, performing her 
agreeable task with credit to herself and pleasure to 
her friends. 

After President Tyler's retirement from public life, 
he removed to his home in Virginia, where he contin- 
ued to reside until his death, which occurred in Rich- 
mond, the I'Zth of January, 18G2. 

Mrs. Tyler retired to her home, Carleton Hill, 
Staten Island, where, blessed with the companionship 
of her cliildren, and surrounded by friends, she enjoys 
the combined gifts of affluence and health; and in the 
possession of those attrJl)utes which render compan- 
ionship agreeable and life a blessing, she is passing 
the days of lier earth-life. 




MiaSooFAMIE; 



OILIEo 



^ .XV. 

SARAH CHILDRESS POLK. 

Saeaii Childress, the daughter of Captain Joel 
and Elizabeth Childress, was born neai' Murfreesboro, in 
Rutherford County, Tennessee, the 4th day of Septem- 
ber, 1803. In that beautiful portion of the South, al- 
most a wilderness then, passed the younger years of 
her life, and there is little to record of it save its con- 
tentment and tranquil happiness. Her father, a farmer 
in easy circumstances, and considered rich for those 
dajT's, allowed his children every benefit to be derived 
from his ' fortunate circumstances, and she was early 
placed at school. The Moravian Institute at Salem, 
North Carolina, was chosen by Mr. Childress as the 
most suitable place for his little daughter, and she was 
placed in that strict and most thorough establishment. 
There she attained discipline and culture, and her 
school days with their varying shadows and sunshine 
passed quietly away. There was nothing to mar the 
influence of those happy school days, and each as it 
came, did its appointed duty in moulding her character. 
The April life fleeted by, clouds and sunshine, little 
griefs and joys, the studious hour, the frank compan- 
ionship of girlhood, the animating walk, hand in hand 
with young friends and with nature, soon rolled away, 
and Sarah Childress returned home. Surrounded in 
her father's house by all the comforts possible to ob- 
tain in that State in those days, and possessing a hope- 



348 SAEAH CHILDEESS POLK. 

fill temperament and sunny heart, adorned witli all the 
accomplishments that the attention of parents and 
teachers could bestow, she was a bright ornament in 
her home, and a pleasure to her friends and society. 

At the early age of nineteen she was married to 
James Knox Polk, in Murfreesboro, The wedding 
was a festival of rejoicing, at which many friends of the 
bride and groom assisted, and was characterized by the 
abundance and merriment customary at that day. 

Mr. Polk had recently entered j^ublic life, and was 
then a raeml:>er of the Legislature of Tennessee. In 
the following year, he was elected to Congress from the 
district, at that time composed of the counties of Giles, 
Maury, Lincoln and Bedford. During fourteen ses- 
sions he continued the representative of that district. 
After having served on the most important committees 
in the House, he was, in 1836, elected Speaker of the 
House of Representatives, a position for which his stu- 
dious and industrious habits, together with his con- 
stantly increasing popularity peculiarly fitted him. 

Mrs. Polk did not fail to accompany hei' husband 
to Washington, every winter except in a single instance. 
She occupied there a conspicuous place in society, and 
by her polite manners and sound judgment made her 
companionship pleasant and inspiriting, not only to 
Mr. Polk but to the friends by whom he was surround- 
ed. Mrs. Polk was a highly cultivated, without being 
a literary woman. Being interested in all that related 
to her husband, she took pains to inform herself fully 
in political affairs, and read all the news and discus- 
sions of the day relating to the ^vell•being of the coun- 



HER MENTAL STATUS. 349 

try, siibjects wliicli to most ladies of that day proved 
wearisome and hard to uuderstand. Living in the 
atmosphere of politicians and surrounded by public 
men, she however avoided the maelstrom upon which 
ladies are often strauded, and never discussed a subject 
in relation to which her sex were expected, to be en- 
tirely ignorant. Women were then as now, supposed 
to be too weak to understand the mighty problem of 
Government, and they evidenced their acquiescence in 
such a supposition by remaining entirely unacquainted 
with the politics of the country. Not so Mrs. Polk, 
who however was no politician, for her visitors were 
not aware of the depth of her understanding, nor were 
they offended by the recurrence to a subject deemed 
out of her sphere. There was an intuitive feeling in 
her heart of what was due to her delicacy, and she was 
wise enough to be consistent and appropriate in all her 
actions. Yet her mind was strengthened by careful 
reading and intimate intercourse with many of the 
finest minds in the country. 

Mr. Polk's residence was at Columbia, Tennessee, 
where the intervals between the sessions of Conoress 
were spent among his relatives. In the year 1834, 
Mrs. Polk joined the Presbyterian Church of that 
place. Since that time her character has been entirely 
a Christian one. Faithful and devout, consistent in 
her conduct to every rule and requirement of her sect, 
she has exemplified in her life the punctual observance 
of a vow, to serve her God through the acknowledged 
tenets of the Presbyterian orthodoxy. 

On the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Polk from Wash- 



350 SARAH CHILDRESS POLK. 

iiigton, in 1839, Mrs. Polk received the graceful com« 
jjliment of a copy of verses, addressed to lier by the 
eminent jurist, Hon. Joseph D. Story. 

In the same year, Mr. Polk was made the Governor 
of Tennessee, and removed his residence to Nashville, 
in order to fulfil the duties of his new position. Mrs. 
Polk, always amiable and animated by the truest fidel- 
ity to her husband's interests, exerted a wide influ- 
ence in the new circle into which her life had been 
cast. By the winning gentleness which ever accom- 
panied her fine social qualities, she attracted even those 
members of the Legislature who were among the op- 
ponents of Mr. Polk. And this is saying a great deal 
when it is remembered that the political campaign of 
18-40 was the most fierce and exciting one in the his- 
tory of the country. It is known as the " hard cider 
and log-cabin campaign." Politiciil rancor and animos- 
ity prevailed to an unprecedentd degree. But the 
lady-like affability and high and exalted virtues of 
Mrs. Polk, won universal admiration from friend and 
foe alike. She lived above the warring elements that 
surrounded her. The calm and charminac bearing: of 
the Governor's wife was a source of constant praise. 

From the sister states of Tennessee and Kentucky, 
came the opposing Presidential candidates in 18-44. 
Henry Clay the idol of the Whig party, and the most 
popular public man in the Commonwealth against the 
champion of Democracy James K. Polk. 

The election was keenly contested, and the result 
most damaging to the Whig party. March 4th, 1845, 
Mr. Polk was inaugurated. The day was very disa^ 



IN THE PRESIDENTIAL MANSION. 351 

groeable, rain and mud rendering much of a display 
out of the question. He was accompanied from the 
Capitol to the White House by the retii'ing President, 
who there took a kindly leave, wishing him prospeiity 
and happiness in his new and exalted position. Mrs. 
Polk immediately assumed the agreeable duties of the 
lady of the White House, and having no children to 
occupy her time, she devoted herself entirely to the 
pleasures of her new station. She held weekly recep- 
tions, and it was customary for her to receive her com- 
pany sitting. The extreme formality required now, 
was not practised then. The crowds that attend the 
few levees held by the President's family, renders every- 
thing like sociability out of the question. Farther and 
farther from the old landmarks we are drifting. In 
Mrs. Washington's day, the company were seated, and 
herself and the President passed round the company. 
Later in the history of the Chief Magistrates, President 
Adams dis23ensed cake and wine to the guests, and 
General Jackson cheese. As the throng grew more 
numerous, Mrs. Polk did away wdth refreshments, 
and now policemen are stationed in the Mansion dur- 
ing receptions, to keep the crowds from crushing the 
President and family, who are compelled to stand and 
shake hands the entire evening. Verily we are a pro- 
gressive people. 

The reputation which Mrs. Polk had acquired was 
nobly sustained, even when subjected, as one might 
say, to the gaze of the whole world. Every circum- 
stance, whether of embarrassment, perplexity, or trial, 
added to the undiminished lustre of her name. She 



352 SAEAH CHILDRESS POLK. 

maintained the dignity of tlie President's Mansion, 
which, in this country of rejiublican freedom and sim- 
plicit}^, was often in danger of being lowered. Her 
parents were of the old school, high-toned in manners 
and principles, and she had imbibed from them what 
may be called the aristocracy of virtue ; an idea that, 
whatever the mass of society might consider themselves 
at liberty to do, it was indispensably due to her station 
to preserve inviolate the strict laws of decorum and of 
the purest principles. Hence it will not be surprising 
that during her occupancy of the White House, the 
practice which had formerly obtained, of dancing there, 
was discontinued ; a practice which was evidently out 
of all harmony with the place, and more suitable any- 
where else. 

The return of Mrs. Polk to Washington was anti- 
cipated by her friends with the liveliest gratification. 
She was ■ considered, by those who knew her, remark- 
ably fitted to fill and adorn the high seat to which she 
was bidden. The following extracts will show the 
feelino; which was rife : 

" We have recently noticed in our exchange papers, 
of both political parties, the most respectful and flat- 
tering compliments paid to the amiable and accom- 
plished lady who is shortly to take charge of the 
White House. We cannot refrain from copying the 
following complimentary tribute to Mrs. Polk, which 
is taken from the Southern (Miss.) Reformer, and we 
are sure that in this community, whei'e Mrs. Polk is 
best known, the compliment will be duly appreciated. 
■ — Tennessee Democrat. 



NEWSPAPER MENTION OF HER. 353 

' Tliis lady is one of the most sensible, refined, and 
accomj)lislied of her sex, and will adorn the White 
House at Washington, over which she is destined to 
preside, with distinguished honor to her country. All 
who have mingled in her society know well how to 
appreciate the gracefulness of her disposition. We 
have seen few women that have developed more of the 
genuine republican characteristics of the American 
lady. She has had her admirers not only in the high- 
est, but in the humblest walks of life. The poor know 
her for her benevolence ; the rich for the plainness of 
her equipage ; the church for her consistency ; the un- 
fortunate for her charities ; and society itself for the 
veneration and respect which her virtues have every- 
where awarded her. We feel proud that the southwest 
can boast of such a noble offspring.' " 

"Washington City, February 24, 1845. 

"My Dear Sir: — The advent of our President 
elect has concentrated everything to and about him. 
The prudence that he observed before he reached here 
in reference to the formation of his Cabinet, still exists. 
He keeps his own counsels, and no tie of personal or 
political friendship, as far as we can learn, has been 
enabled to get from him a glimpse of the future. It 
is generally believed here tliat Mr. Polk will be influ- 
enced by no ultra party considerations; that he will 
look to the great interests of the country as a whole, 
and study, with the incentives of a statesman and a 
patriot, so to administer the Government. Should he 
prescribe to himself this policy, those who know him 



354 SAEAir CHILDRESS POLK. 

best know tliat lie lias firmness of purpose commensu 
rate to its fulfillment. 

"Whatever the diversities of opinion that divide 
politicians, and whatever the asperities of feeling engen- 
dered by the conflicts to w^hich they lead, they seem, by 
common consent, to he surrendered npon the altar that 
is reared in every chivalrous heart, to the meed most 
justly due to elegance and excellence of female charac- 
ter, in the person of the lady of the President elect. 

" All approach her with the tribute that is due to 
her exalted station, and all leave her with the pleasing 
impression that the refinement and blandishments of 
her manners, the gentleness of her disposition, and 
unostentatious bearing, fit her eminently for the place 
and part she is to occupy for the next four years. At 
home and abroad, the influence of her character will 
do honor to our country. These are the impressions 
of your friend." 

'' l*^ot long since, in the Nashville Union appeared 
a communication in which the writer very justly ap- 
plauds the lady of the President of the United States 
in consequence of her dignified and exemplary deport- 
ment since her occupancy of the Presidential Mansion. 
Among other remarks, the following occur : ' She is 
a consistent member of the Presbyterian Church, and 
therefore has abolished dancing and other light amuse- 
ments in her house.' Assuredly nothing more effectu- 
ally commends the religion of the Bible, than the holy 
and consistent conduct of those who j^rofess to be gov- 
erned by its precepts. 

"A professor of religion, doubtless Mrs. Polk 



IIEIl KELIGIOUS EXAMPLE. 355 

deeply realized the responsibility of her position. Ex- 
posed to the temptations of fashionable life in their 
most alluring forms, it required no trivial amount of 
gracious influence to enable her to abjure the maxims 
and customs of an ungodly world. The friend's of re- 
ligion anxiously looked forward in regard to the 
course she might think proper to adopt in that re- 
spect, and thanks to Providence and lier own pious 
heart, their hopes and expectations have not ^een dis- 
appointed. By lier consistent and exemplary conduct 
she has secured the gratitude and respect of the friends 
of religion of every name, yea, of all whose good 
opinion is most worth enjoying; while, in the mean- 
time, the friends and advocates of the rejected pastimes, 
nolens volens^ will even on that account feel constrained 
to accord to her the homage of their augmented re- 
spect. 

'•' The example of Mrs. Polk can hardly fail of ex- 
erting, in various respects, a salutary influence. Espe- 
cially does it rebuke the conduct of those ladies who, 
professing godliness, nevertheless dishonoi' its profes- 
sion by their eager participation in the follies and 
amusements of the world. However politicians may 
difter in regard to the merits of Mr. Polk's administra- 
tion, there can be no difference as respects that of his 
lady, in her department of the Presidential Mansion. 
All will agree that by the exclusion of the frivolities 
spoken of, and her excellent deportment in other re- 
spects, she has conferred additional dignity upon the 
executive department of our government, and may 
well be considered a model worthy of imitation by the 



356 SAKAII OIULDKESS POLK. 

ladies wlio may hereafter occupy tlae elevated position 
from wliicli she is about to retire. This excellent lady, 
ere long, it is jDresumed, will return to the society of 
kindred -and friends, among whom, it is sincerely 
hoped, she may long live to receive and confer happi- 
ness upon all around, and as hitherto, continue to be an 
ornament to the religion and church her example has 
so signally honored." 

In her elevated and conspicuous situation, the state- 
liness of Mrs. Polk's bearing was strikingly becoming 
and appropriate. With this an English lady was im- 
pressed, who averred that not one of the three queens 
whom she had seen could compare with the truly femi- 
nine yet distinguished and regal presence of Mrs. Polk. 
She says : " Mrs. Polk is a very handsome woman. 
Her hair is very black, and her dark eye and com- 
plexion remind one of the Spanish donnas. She is 
well-read, has much talent for conversation, and is 
highly popular. Her excellent taste in dress preserves 
the subdued though elegant costume which character- 
izes the lady."" 

The same feeling of admiration seemed to inspire 
the graceful writer, Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, in the fol« 
lowing tribute. 

*' Lady, had I the woalth of earth 

To.oftcr freely at thy slirine, 
Bright gold and buds of dewy birth, 

Or gems from out tlie teeming mine, 
A thousand things most he.uitiful, 

All sparkling, precious, rich and rare, 
These hands would render up to thee, 

Thou noble lady, good and fair I 



POETICAL TRIBUTE. 357 

For as I write, sweet tliouffhfs ai-ise 

Of times when all thy kindness ]eiit 
A thousand hues of Paradise 

To the Heet moments as they went; 
Then all thy thoughts were winged with light, 

And every smile was calm and sweet, 
And thy low tones and gentle words 

Made the warm lieart's blood thrill and beat. 

Tliere, standing in our nation's home, 

My memory ever pictui-es thee 
As some briglit dame of ancient Rome, 

Modest, yet all a queen should be ; 
I love to keep thee in my mind, 

Thus mated with the pure of old. 
When love, with lofty deeds combined,, 

Made women great and warriors bold. 

Wlien first I saw thee standing there. 

And felt the pressure of tijy hand, 
I scarcely thou.^^ht if thou wert fair, 

Or of the highest in the land ; 
I knew thee gentle, pure as great. 

All that w;i.s lovely, meek and good ; 
And so I half forgot thy state 

In love of tliy bright womanhood. 

And many a sweet sensation came, 

That lingers in my bosom yet. 
Like that celestial, holy flame 

That vestals ti-emble to forget. 
And on the earth or in the sky, 

There's not a thought more true and free, 
Than tiiat which beats within my heart, 

In pleasant memory of thee. 

Lady, I gladly would have brought 

Some gem that on thy heart may live, 
But this poor wreath of woven thought 

Is all the wealth I have to give. 
All wet with heart-dew, flush with lovo, 

I lay the garland at tliy feet. 



358 SARAH CHILDRESS POLK. 

Praying the angel-forms above, 

To weave thee one more pure and sweet." 

The receptions of the President were always large- 
ly attended, and were made agreeable to everybody 
by the spirit of livelirijess as well as of courtesy that 
prevailed. A visitor says, " Last evening I had an 
opportunity of seeing the members of the royal family, 
together with some choice specimens of the Democracy, 
in the " circle-room " of the White House. It was re- 
ception night, and the latch-string, in the shape of a 
handsome negro, was ' outside the door.' On entering, 
I found a room full. Mr. Polk is so affable as to pre- 
vent one from feeling any awe that he is in direct com- 
munication with the concentrated majesty of the whole 
United States and Territories. 

" The wife of the President was seated on the sofa, 
engaged with half a dozen ladies in lively conversation. 
Ill and clumsy as I am at millinery, yet for the sake 
of my fair readers, I will try to describe her toilet. A 
maroon colored velvet dress, with short sleeves and 
high in the neck, trimmed with very deep lace, and a 
handsome pink head-dress was all that struck the eye 
of the general observer. Mr. Willis would, no doubt, 
have noticed many other little accompaniments, inter- 
esting to ladies, but I never could indulge in any such 
familiarity. Who would think of plucking at an an- 
gel's wing in order to give an analysis of its fibre ? 
Mrs. Polk is a handsome, intelligent and sensible wo- 
man, better looking and better dressed, than any of 
her numerous lady visitors present on the occasion. 

" Among the guests of distinction, were the Hon. 



PUBLIC EECEPTIONS. 359 

Cave Joliiison, Post-Master General, wlio bears a strong 
resemblance about the head to Mr. Greeley, of the Tri 
bune ; Mr. Vinton, of Ohio, Commodore De Kay, Mr. 
Rockwell, of Connecticut ; and a Wall Street financier, 
who can draw a larger draft on London than any other 
man in the country. There were two or three pairs 
of epaulettes ; a couple of pretty deaf and dumb girls, 
who only talked with their fingers ; and scores of others 
who talked with their eyes, while a whole regiment of 
the ' raw material ' of the Democracy in frock coats, 
stood as straight as grenadiers around the outer circle 
of the room, gazing in silent astonishment at the Pres- 
ident and the chandeliers." 

On one of the reception nights, a distinguished gen- 
tleman from South Carolina, remarked in a loud tone 
of voice to Mrs. Polk, " Madam, there is a woe pro- 
nounced against you in the Bible." Every one ceased 
conversing for a moment, when Mrs. Polk inquired 
what he meant. " Well, the Bible says, ' Woe unto 
you when all men shall speak well of you.' " A general 
laugh followed, and the remark was considered very 
appropriate. 

Durino- President Polk's administration, the war 
with Mexico was inaugurated by a difficulty about the 
boundary line of TcxXas. The country is acquainted 
with the brilliant successes of the American troops in 
Mexico, and of General Scott's glorious successes, 
whereby he reached and revelled in the halls of the 
Montezumas. The war ended in 1 848, the year before 
Mr. Polk's retirement. President Polk's easy, courte- 
ous manners, went far toward allaying the opposition 



360 ^AEAII CHILDRESS POLK. 

which is ever apparent in times of national troul)le, 
and the affable manners of Mrs. Polk rendered his^ 
efforts the more successful. With the exception of th^ 
summer of 1847, spent in Tennessee, Mrs. Polk remain 
ed uninterruptedly at the White House ; the visits of 
members of her family cheering the otherwise monoto- 
nous routine of her life there. 

A gentleman who called at the White House one 
evening in the fall of 1846, writes in the following 
terms of his visit 1 — " We were met by Mr. Walker, 
the Private Secretary, with much politeness, the Presi- 
dent being absent, and were received by Mrs. Polk in 
the kindest, and at the same time most graceful, man- 
ner. It may be said with truth, she is a lady of com- 
manding dignity at all times ; and her conversation, 
generally of the most agreeable character, is always 
happily directed. In my judgment, at no period in 
our history have we seen the hospitalities and ceremo- 
nies of the White House more handsomely dispensed, 
or displayed with greater republican simplicity than 
at the present time. If my observation be correct, no 
invidious or improper distinction seems to be made in 
the circle of visitors. There is no imposing movement 
or extra formality exhibited when a Secretary or some 
other high officer of Government presents himself. 
The quiet and unheralded citizen receives a polite and 
cordial salutation, as well as the haughty millionaire, 
or some proud Minister of State. And this is 23recisely 
as it should be, a just and beautiful commentary, alike 
upon our noble institutions, and the charming social 
qualities of the President and his family. 



HER MANNER OF RECEIVHSTG GUESTS. 361 

" I was struck not only with tlie easy and fascinat- 
ing manners of Mrs. Polk, but equally with her patri- 
otic sentiments and feelings. A gallant Lieutenant 
just from the bloody but glorious conflict at Monterey, 
was there also ; and as Mrs. Polk gracefully carried 
back his thoughts to the distant field of his early fame, 
he caught the inspiration at once, and dwelt briefly for 
her entertainment upon some of the thrilling incidents 
of those scenes. In the course of this animated con- 
versation to which I was a favored listener, the mod- 
est young officer remarked, in a playful manner, that 
somethino; which I do not now recollect was rather too 
democratic ; to which Mrs. Polk replied, that ' what- 
ever sustained the honor, and advanced the interests, 
of the country, whether regarded as democratic or not, 
she admired and applauded.' The sentiment was a 
truly noble one." 

A correspondent of the New York Journal of Com- 
merce has also given to the public a sketch of a visit to 
Presidential Mansion, which is interesting. "These the 
musings were soon interi'upted by the entrance of Mrs. 
Polk who, with an easy smile and a graceful simplicity 
of manner, bid me welcome as an American citizen, 
and partaker of a common faith. She bears her hon- 
ors meekly, and surely it is no mean elevation to be 
the wife of an American President ; an elevation to 
which many fond and ambitious aspirations are doubt- 
less secretly cherished in the bosoms of high minded 
American women, but which only one, now and then, 
can enjoy. And this one, probably, was among the 
last to expect it, till the news came tc distui'b the 

quietude of her hapj)y domestic life in Tennessee, 
in 



862 SAKAH CHILDRESS POLK. 

" Mrs. Polk mnj be considered a felicitous speci 
men of the intelligent, i-efined American lady, avIio, 
without artificial airs, without any assumption of stato 
liness of manners, without any ambitious ornaments of 
dress, exchanges the courtesies of social life, and demeans 
hei'self in public, with a sincerity somewhat rare in the 
current circles of fashion. 

" I cannot but think that the basis of her style of 
character is laid in a true and unaffected piety. She is 
regular in her attendance on divine worship and on the 
communion of the Lord's supper. In our conversation, 
she expressed her great delight, among similai' things, 
in having recently witnessed and welcomed the admis- 
sion of three or four interesting youths to the commu- 
nion of the Presbyterian Church, of which she is a 
member. Unlike some of her predecessors, Mrs. Polk 
has no taste for the gay amusements of the lovers of 
pleasure." 

In the early fall of 1847, the illness of Mrs. Polk 
threw a cloud of sorrow and apprehension over many 
hearts ; but it was only a cloud, and the recovery of 
this beloved and honored lady was hailed with delight 
and thanksgiving. Some one writing to the Baltimore 
Sun, says, " This fall we have a peculiar sorrow, in the 
dangerous illness of the honoi'ed lady of President 
Polk. She came among us almost a stranger, respected 
on account of her station, but unknown to most of us ; 
she is now the pride of society, as well as the object 
of our tender affection. The social circles of Wash- 
ington gi-atefuUy acknowledge the happiness she has 
diffused through them ; the needy and suffering bless 



FAREAVELL TO WASHINGTON. 363 

God for sueli a friend. All admire liei' character, all 
revere her vii'tues, and all with one consent join in sup- 
plicating the Father of mercies to spare her long, very 
Iohg: to her distinj^nished husband and the friends to 
whom she is so dear." 

A few days before the close of his admijiistration, 
a splendid dinner party was given by the Pj-esident to 
General Tayloi*. At the levee, the same evening, a 
great concourse of persons — acquaintances, admirers, 
and friends — assembled to pay their last respects and 
take their last adieu of the President and his wife. 

On Sunday afternoon, in the Fii'st Presbyterian 
Church, Mrs. Polk participated for the last time in the 
solemn services of the communion. The Kev. Mr. Bal- 
lentyne addressed the distinguished lady in a most ap- 
propriate manner ; and on the conclusion of the cere- 
monies, the pastor and a large number of the commu- 
nicants approached and bade her an affectionate fare- 
well. 

The following morceau appears in the Washington 
Union : — 

A FAREWELL TO MRS. POLK. 

"Lady, farewell ! amid the gloom of grief, 

How many a heart will utter that sad sound! 
Farewell ! for theo. a thousand hearts will mourn ; 

So much of friendsliip lost, of sorrow found. 
And thou slialt leave a void iu Friendship's hall, 

Where joyous notes were once so wont to rise, 
Like that fair Pleiad which forsook its home. 

And caused to mourn the sisters of the skies. 
But thou must go : yet with thee thos shalt bear 

A stranger's hope upon the distant way, 

And only fade to give a calmer day. 



3G-1 SAKAIl ('IHM)RESS POLK. 

A wolconio, too, IM fi'iva tlu'O to my liomo, 

My .siiiiiiy lioino, tho old Palmetto soil; 
"Wlioro m;my a Iicart, nil warm and true and kind, 

Shall cha«o away tho ^!;loom of Iravors toil. 
And may life pass aa soft as snnsct hour, 

When gcMillo rays gloam on tho skies ahovo. 
And may each pulse in sweetest union heat 

To tho soft music of tho har[) of love 

"Constancy." 

Tho (Icp.'U'turo from Wii^-^liingtoii niul return to 
Nnslivilli'! was a continiuMl scoiu; of ovaiion and tri- 
umpli. Evorywliei'e along tlio route, deiuourttrationH 
of rert})oct and oHteoui grcM'tod the; nohlc traA^cUcrs. 
Arriving at liotne, tlio citizens of Nasliville sliowod 
them every possil)le mark of regard. 

Befoi'O the expiration of Mr, Polk's pnsidential 
term, \\c had purchased a house in Nasliville, from the 
Hon, Felix (li'uudy, in the most C(mimanding })osition 
in the city. It wa?5 eidarged and ornamented and put 
in the most complete and elegant order. l<]ver since it 
has heen known as " Polk Place". The surrounding 
grounds arc tastefully and elaborately arranged and 
.adorne(l with ilowers and shrul)V)ery, They extend from 
Vine striiet on the east, to S])ruce street on the wCvst ; and 
from Unl(^n street on the north, to Polk avenue, which 
leads from tju^ mansion to Chni'ch sti'eet, t)u the South. 
The dwelling is largxi and imposing, and the grounds 
ample, forming on(^ of the most attractive places in the 
city. This was the choscMi spot foi- the decliniug days 
of the recent occupants of the Whiti; House. 

Soon after theii' return iVom Wasliiugton, tin; ex- 
President and his wife contemplated a tour in r]uroi)e; 



1)i;a'1'1i ok mi;, polk. '>(>;") 

tluMi a nnu'li mow serious iiiHliMinkini^' tliaii at tlui 
jirosoiit (lay, ITo (>V(M1 imio'M^'imI a oouriiM' \y]io oould 
speak and wriic^ S^'reiu'li and (u'nua!i, to obviate many 
difficnilties of the journey. ImiI ill-]u>altli and (he 
speedy t<M'iuination o[' the statesman's lile, put, an end 
to tlie pleasant scheme. 

After the death oi' l\Ir. Polk, ;i small hut heautifid 
tenipl(>, of native niarMe, was erected on the c;rouiuls, 
on the (>ast(M'n front, heneatli uhieh lie the I'emains oi' 
the distinsi;uished statesman. On three sides of a mon- 
ument within the temple, theri^ are full and lengthy 
nisei'iptions, reeordinji; the i)i-in('i])al events of n nseful 
and luMiored life. The death o[' \\cv husltand was (he 
oidy allliclion o\' Mi-s. Poik's lif(>. It had Ixmmi invari- 
ably calm, cheerful, and happy. '' In (his o-reat trial 
ami deep di'aui;h( o\' iho wateis i)\' bitterness, she was 
sustained and consoled b)' the divine principles and 
])recious ])i'omises oi' hov religion. She was (uia.blcd 
by faith to look forward \o a reunion in (he better 
land, with him on whosc> sti'om;; arm she had so lonj^" 
l(>an(Ml, and to whom her attachnuMit and companion- 
ship had biHMi so {\i'-Av. She had rcmo\'cd hei- mcm- 
bershi[) from the church in Washington, and ha.d be- 
come connected with the l^^'irst Presbyterian ('iiurch of 
Nashville, of which t.lu> lanuMited Dr. John T. hMj^ar 
was so Ioul;- (lu! l)(dov<Ml })ast.or." 'I'lie symj)a,thi/in<2^ at- 
tention ])aid to Mrs. Polk in her i;ri('i" was uni\'ersal. 
From every distinguished lady ami gentliMuan of h(>r 
wide acquaintance she received letters of condolence 
and consolation. 

The study of tlu^ President, a large room in (heseo 



366 SAEAH CHILDEESS POLK. 

ond story, commanding a view of tlie Capitol, is kept 
by Mrs. Polk just as lie left it. Here are liis books, 
his pajjers. Lis pen and all the little articles that be- 
token an apartment in daily use ; as if he had just 
stepped out and would soon return. It is kept in 
order by her own hands. 

Such public marks of respect have been shown to 
Mrs. Polk as it has been no other lady's fortune to re- 
ceive. Prominent men of all classes and callings rarely 
visit the city without paying their respects to her. It 
was for years the habit of the Legislature to call upon 
her, in a body, on New Year's Day. Large delegations 
of Masons, of Odd Fellows, and of Sons of Temperance, 
at the various meetings of their societies, have done 
themselves the honor to be presented to her. Num- 
bers of the members of the General Assembly of the 
Presbyterian Church have, at different times, visited 
Polk Place to evince their sincere respect for her whose 
life has been so pure and blameless, and whose Chris- 
tian character is so shining an example. 

During the Confederate days of Nashville, Mrs. 
Polk received the kind attentions of the supreme offi- 
cers ; among others of Gen. Beauregard, of Gen. Ereck- 
enridge, and of Gen. Preston. Afterward, Gen. Buell, 
Gen. Thomas, Gen. Nelson, Gen. Mitchell, Gen. Crit- 
tenden, Gen. McCook, Gen. Sherman, Gen. Wood, and 
many others, and staff officers innumerable, called to 
pay tlieir duty to the distinguished mistress of Polk 
Place. 

In a letter from a visitor at Melrose, the residence 
of Mrs. Gov. A. V. Brown, in the vicinity of Nashville, 



HER RESIDENCE IN NASHVILLE. 367 

is tlie following pleasant description : — " Among tlie 
pleasures that we most value and trust never to lose, 
was meeting and becoming acquainted, while at Mel- 
rose, with one of Nashville's most valued residents — 
Mrs. President Polk. By far the most interesting spot 
in that city is Polk Place, this lady's home, an elegant 
and stately erection, the portico of the noblest archi- 
tecture, exquisite in design and proportion. The house 
has large, lofty rooms, a noble hall, rich in presents 
received by Mrs. Polk during the presidential career 
of her husband. Among them is a beautiful drawing 
of Niagara, a fine oil painting of De Soto, and walking 
sticks in curious shapes and of precious looking wood. 
Besides these, the walls are hung with portraits of 
illustrious men, and fine likenesses of the President, 
repeated- at different ages. In this cherished retire- 
ment, enlivened by the pi'esence of a sweet little rela- 
tive, an adopted daughter of Mrs. Polk's, men of all 
parties meet, forgetting their political differences in 
social enjoyment. 

" But the house, noble as it is, is not the goal of 
the visitor's pilgrimage. As at the Hermitage, the 
true shrine is to be found in the shade, the verdure, 
the fragrance of a sloping garden, amid dazzling masses 
of verbena, geraniums, heliotrope, and jessamine. In 
the centre of this lovely mosaic is a fine monument, 
erected over the remains of him whose brief and bright 
career was cut suddenly short, enriched by an elegant 
inscription from Mrs. Polk's pen ; a true and noble 
record, honorable alike to the departed and to the sur- 
vivor. Here, amid the song of birds and the odor of 



368 SAIJAII CHILDRESS POLK. 

flowers, we paid willing liouiage to all that remained 
of one who died lamented by liis countrymen of every 
sect and party. 

" His mourners were two parfcs, Lis friends and foes. 
He Lad kept tLe wLiteness of Lis soul, and tliusmen o'er 
Lim wept. 

" Meeting Mrs. Polk was like seeing tLe original of 
a ftmiiliar picture, and in a few moments after seeing 
Ler, we were surprised to find ourself forgetting, in a 
confiding feeling, tLat we were conversing witL a lady 
wLo Lad presided at tLe Executive Mansion, witL a 
wider popularity tLan Las since been attained by any 
of Ler successors. SLe seems to Lave a warm and un- 
envying sympatLy in tlie success of otLers, and in Ler 
conversation tLei'e is an exj^ression of tLose affectionate 
sympatLies wLicL made Ler beloved in a more elevated 
spLere. SLe Las a pleasing figure, wLat we call lady- 
like, delicate, erect, and graceful, witL a great deal of 
manner, in tLe last respect resenil^ling tLe late Mrs. 
Madison. Mrs. Polk's mental endowments, as well as 
Ler personal qualities, combine to render Ler a general 
favorite, wLile Ler manners and cLaracter give a per- 
manence to Ler social success by converting admirers 
into friends." 

In a pecuniaiy point of view, Mrs. Polk's life Las 
passed in ease and afiluence. Her fatLer was compar- 
atively wealtLy, and Mr. Polk's circumstances were 
always good. In addition to Lis property in Tennes- 
see, Le owned a large and flourisLing plantation in 
Mississippi. CLief Justice Catron, Major Daniel Gra- 
ham, and otLer clistinguisLed personal friends Lave 



mm HOME LIFE. 369 

attended to Mrs. Polk's financial affairs during her 
widowhood, and have thus relieved her from all care. 

Mrs. Polk, though ever willing to converse, and 
always enriching the conversation from her ready store 
of information and observation, is remai'kably reticent 
in regard to her own life. Her most familiar friends fail 
to persuade an account of incidents I'elating purely to 
herself; and it is only by the casual letters of visitors 
and the few descriptions of some friends, that any thing 
is known. She is never seen in pul )lic except at church. 
The visits of chosen friends are grateful to her, but 
she does not return them, and no attraction is sufficient 
to draw her away from the home where cluster so 
many dear and sacred memories. Occasionally she 
spends a few days with her relatives in other counties. 

Having no children, Mrs. Polk some time after the 
death of her husband adopted a niece, who has ever 
since been an inmate of her house. No employment 
could have served better to console the many lonely 
hours, that must be the inevitable heritage of a wid- 
owed heart, than the charge of a daughter. 

As Mrs. Polk grows older her life becomes more 
devout and retired. She is not, nor ever has been, an 
active worker in any thing, for the system under which 
she was reared, in common with the higher class of 
southern people unfitted her for the pursuits of in- 
dustry. 

Accustomed from infancy to be served by the 

hands of slaves, she found no stimulant to develop 

the muscular oi'gans, without which there cannot exist 

the highest order of mentality. In her daily life she 
24 



370 SAKAII CHILDRESS POLK. 

illustrates the effects of lier early ti-aining; gentle, re- 
fined, and exclusive, slie lias no conception of the 
depths of human character nor the scope of human 
experience, and has not found the sublime heights to 
which a human being through suffering can attain. 
She does not possess that most contagious and popu- 
lar of elements — cheerfulness, nor yet is she generous 
and wai-m-hearted. In her presence one is impressed 
with the repose and dignity of her bearing, and the 
entire refinement of her ladylike deportment ; but the 
life-giving principles of impulsive affection and open- 
lianded liberality, which keep the heart young long 
after the bloom and elasticity of youth have departed 
forever, are not characteristics of hers. 

Mrs. Polk's position in her native State and in the 
South were such that her means of doing good were 
immense ; holding a position such as no other woman 
of her section has, until recently, held — that of a 
President's wife — it has been in her power to wield a 
mighty and beneficial influence. Had she chosen any 
art (H- mode of ameliorating the condition of those 
about her, or of adorning and rendering attractive 
social life in her own circle, in the numberless ways 
which to one in her situation were easy and practical, 
the good she might have done would have been incal- 
culable ; but her morbid exclusiveness rendered her 
unsociable, and her Christian virtues, too much in- 
clined to austerity, closed her house to every form of 
gayety. 

She might have been a Roland or a Nightingale. 
She chose rather to be the representative of her hus- 



HER LATER YEARS. 371 

band's name and greatness, and was satisfied to rest in 
the shadows thereof. 

She was born in the dawn of the nineteenth centu 
ry, and is a pure type of a class which is rapidly 
becoming extinct. With her will pass away many of 
the excellences and not a few of the foibles of a class 
modelled after the aristocracy of the old world on 
their graftings in the new. Her life has been spent in 
an age and country where chivalric honor to woman is 
a matter of national pride, yet in a land of slaves and 
slavery. The young and middle-aged of our day will 
never know the opportunities of time and means which 
she, half a century ago, enjoyed; for the South is 
changed, and verily old things have passed away 
and all are new. The present generation, thrown 
more upon their own resources and passing through 
the perplexities of change and misfortune, will grow 
away from the old regime, and may perhaps lose many 
of their virtues with too few of their faults. 

During the late civil war, she suffered in common 
with the people of the South, losing much of her valua- 
ble property, but was fortunately left with sufficient 
means to enable her to live in her usual style of com- 
fort. Her sympathies were with the section of coun- 
try in which she was reared, but her conduct was 
throughout befitting her station, and no expression or 
action of hers is a reflection of aught save refined bear^ 
ing and high-toned sensibility. 

Surrounded with comforts and luxuries, and enjoy- 
ing the companionship of her relatives and friends, 
Mrs. Polk glides calmly down the vale of years, witli 



372 THE END OF A PURE LIFE. 

tlie m(3moi'y of a past all brightness, and the hopes of a 
future all peace. The life-time imitation of a pure 
and useful standard of excellence has rewarded lier 
witli a glorious fame, and she dwells among the friends 
of lier youtli, honored and respected, trusted and 
beloved. 



XVI. 

MAKGARET TAYLOR. 

The imj)ortance attached to Presidential honors ia 
not in our country the inheritance of persons born to 
the wearing of them. Monarchial governments, by tra- 
dition and Law, designate not only who is the " chief 
magistrate," but also provide candidates in advance for 
the succession. People, therefore, born to such high 
estate, are always, from infancy onward, objects of 
world-wide interest ; and the minutest acts of their lives, 
before they achieve their inherited position as well as 
after, are subjects of note from a thousand pens. 

In our own country, the popular will selects its 
candidates for the highest office within its gift as often 
from ttiose who have suddenly received popularity, as 
from those who have, by antecedent history, become 
known to fame. It is probably true that, just before 
the breaking out of actual hostilities between this 
country and Mexico, there was no military officer — his 
long and faithful public service considered — who was as 
little known to the country at large as General Taylor. 

That the future Mistress of the White House who 
was buried in the seclusion of his retired private life, 
should be little known out of her domestic circle, is 
therefore not surprising ; and that a family, the mem- 
bers of which had ahvays courted seclusion and were 
satisfied ^vith making perfect the narrow circle of their 
accepted duties, should shrink from publicity and no- 



374 MAEGAEET TAYLOR. 

tice, is not to be wondered at; and, as a consequence, 
there is but little left to afford material for the pen of 
the historian. 

Mrs. Taylor and her daughter " Betty, " who for a 
while shone forth as the acknowledged " first ladies of 
the land," never sympathized with the display and bustle 
of the White House, and they always performed such 
official duties as were imperatively forced upon them, 
by theii" exalted position, as a task that had no com- 
pensation for the sacrifices attending it. 

The key to Mrs. Taylor's life was touched by 
General Taylor himself, who, when receiving from an 
appointed speaker, at Baton Kouge, the official an- 
nouncement that he was elected President of the Uni- 
ted States, among other things said : 

" For more than a quarter of a century, my house 
has been the tent, and my home the battle-field." This 
statement, which might have been used with propriety 
as figurative language by any officer who had l)een, foi* 
more than a quarter of a century on active duty, was 
litterally true of General Taylor's experience. He 
was emphatically a hai'd-working officei* : either from 
choice or accident, his public life was never varied by 
thoi^e terms of " official repose " which give officers a 
rest at Washington, at West Point, or at head-quar- 
ters in some large city. 

On the contrary, General Taylor, from the time he 
entered the army as a lieutenant until he laid aside his 
well-earned commission as a Major-General to assume 
the highest responsibility of Commander-in-Chief of the 
Army and Navy, had never been out of what might be 
termed the severest tVontiei' duties. 



LIFE ON TJIE FKONTIER. 375 

He was known as having acquired the largest ex- 
perience as an "Indian fighter." He was alike the 
hero of the "Black Hawk," as he was the most promi- 
nent officer in the Seminole war. Hence it is that 
Mrs. Taylor, more than any other mistress of the 
White House, had seen more army service, and passed 
througli more varied frontier experiences; for she 
would never, under any circumstances, if she could 
avoid it, separate herself from her husband, no matter 
how severe were the trials resulting from wifely devo- 
tion. 

This heroic spirit, that gives such grace and beauty 
to useful qualities, carried her cheerfully to Tampa 
Bay, that she might be near her husband when he was 
endeavoring to suppress the wily Scminoles in the 
swamps and everglades of Florida ; and as the long 
previous years in the Western country made her fomi- 
liar with the attributes of savage triumphs, so the final 
defeats that eventually secured our settlers a peaceful 
home on the rich plains of Mexico, and laid the foun- 
dation of the prosperity of the great West. 

Iji all this quarter of a century General Taylor so 
feelingly alludcnl to, when his house was a tent and his 
home the battle-field, it was seldom that Mrs. Taylor 
was not at his side, bearing her share of the hardships 
incidental to her husband's life, and cheerfully attend- 
ing to the duties which fell to her to perform. All 
this while, the modost accommodations were acceptable, 
the log cal)in in winter, the tent if necessary in sum* 
mer, with the coarse but substantial food of the sol- 
diers, and often even this not in abundance. Deprived 



o76 MARGARET TAYLOR. 

of tlie little elegancies which are so necessary for a 
woman's comfort — separated from the society of hei- 
children, who were almost always away at school — 
nothing stood in the wny of her fealty to her hnsband, 
and she was content thus to live. 

Through all these trying circumstances Mrs. Taylor, 
by her good sense, her modesty, her uncomplaining 
spirit, her faculty of adding to the comforts and sur- 
roundings of her husband's life, — fdled the measure of 
her duty and set an example of the true woman, espe- 
cially a soldier's wife, that her sex for all time can ad- 
mire and point to as worthy of imitation. 

Her domestic duties, so far as they related to the 
comfort of her family, she would never intentionally 
abandon for a single day to menial hands. Especially 
was she carefid in the pi'epai'ation of the food for the 
table, and hov/ever sini})le the meal might be, she saw 
tliat the material was carefully prepared. And this 
home training General Taylor displayed wher in North- 
ern Mexico, away from this domestic care ; for while 
he was indifferent to a degree about luxuries, yet what 
he did eat, he peristed in having carefully sel -cted and 
prepared with due regard to healthfulness; and his tent 
was ever a model of neatness and rude comfor< 

Mrs. Taylor's maiden name was Margaret Smith. 
She was born in Maryland, and came of a family iden- 
tified for their substantial qualities which distinguished 
intelligent agriculturists. She received such an educa- 
tion as was at the command of female pupils in the 
beginning of the century. An education which con- 
sidered the practical, rather than the intellectual, and 



lIKli J)()MKS'n(J A<XJ().MIM.ISIIMION'rS. .'577 

to tJiin p];iii(! of lier scliool liCo, ahc; was tniiiKMl with 
special c;ir(! in all tliC3acconij)lisliiiiciitHof(lomc;stic (lilt i(!H, 

" Maryland liousc-k(!(.'piiig " was for ycai'H in (Jic 
Hou til- west, and is still among tlic "old settlers," a com 
])limentary remark, ifapplicid to a lady fi'om any j)art 
of tlie countiy, so excellent was considered the house- 
wives' woi'k of those who l(;anied th(dr duti(;s on the 
tid<'.-waters of th(! (JIi(;sa])eake ]>.'iy, Jiiid aiiioiig those 
examples of domestic perfection in ii(!i' State, M r-s. Tay- 
loi" wasemin(!nt. And to ]>o, moj-(; than this, — to ni.'ike 
h(!r home happy, — slu; (ivid(!ntiy had no ambition. 
jMjirrying an officer of tint United States Army, who 
wus I)()rii ill Kentucky, mix! was appointiid fi-om " j)ri- 
vate life," her hushand had no associations that t(Kjk 
him to the North, which ind(;pendent of official oj)[)Oi'- 
tunities, are increased by a student's career at W(;sb 
l*oint. "Captain Taylor," was tli(!r(3foi'(^, fi'om tli<; Ix;- 
giiming of his jjublic lif(;, confined to the frontiers, and 
was known as one of the '' hard working," and "figlit- 
iiig ollicers."- Ilis boyhood days wcj'e made up of 
adventures with Indians, an<l ai'ound tlu; iii(;sid<; of 
his own h<^me, listening t(^ his fathei- and his father's 
friends, talk ov(;r the struggles, suffiirings, and triuiriplis 
they endured as active participators in the llevoluiion 
nnd(ir the h^adei'ship of General Washington and 
Wayne, and of their subsequent liard lives after tliey 
left Virginia, to found homes "in the dark and ]>loody 
ground," 

To accept with j^leasure the incidents of tin; conse- 
cpieut life, was the true spirit of the American heroine. 
and to adorn it through long years of pi'ivations a,n(l 



378 MARGARET TAYLOR. 

sufferings as Mrs. Taylor did, is the noblest tribute 
that can be paid to her virtues. For sixteen years 
after the conclusion of our second war with England, 
the time indicated in history as the " treaty of Ghent," 
Major Taylor spent an active life in what was then 
known as our western frontiers. He established forts 
and corresponded with the Government on Indiar 
affairs. His custom was to personally superintend the 
varied and difficult labors imposed upon him. All 
this while he was literally in the savage wilder 
uess, and Mrs. Taylor, then a young wife, persistently 
accompanied him. To her attentions to her husband 
the country was largely indebted for his usefulness, 
and by her influence and example the subordinates 
who were attached to the pioneer army, were made 
contented and uncomplaining. 

This era of Mrs. Taylor's life, she was wont always 
to speak of with subdued enthusiasm. 

It was while thus living that her children were 
born. They followed her fortunes as long as a moth- 
er's care was absolutely necessary for their safety ; but 
the moment they were sufficiently matured to leave 
her protection, she submitted to the painful sacrifice 
of havijicr them sent to her relatives in the " settle- 
ments," for a less perilous life and the enjoyment of 
the facilities of educational institutions ; but she never 
thought of abandoning her husband, her lii'st duty 
being for his interest and comfort. It is not surprising 
that when the "Florida war" began, that the Captain 
Taylor of twenty years previous was now a Colonel, 
and that his past services should have secured for him 



AT TAMPA BAY. 379 

the difficult and dangerous honor of taking command 
against the treacherous Seminoles of the Everglades. 
True to the characteristics of his whole life, he quietly 
proceeded to this new field of action, and to the sur- 
prise of the country, the people of which now began 
to know Colonel Taylor, it was heralded in the papers 
tliat Mrs. Taylor had established herself at Tampa 
Bay. It was looked upon at the time as a piece of 
unpardonable recklessness that she should thus risk 
her life, when to the outward world the odds at the 
time seemed to be against her husband's success. But 
she evidently knew his character and her own duty 
best, and through the lasting struggle, made so terrible 
and romantic by the incidents of the battle of Okee- 
Cliobee, Mrs. Taylor was of immense service in super- 
intending the wants of the sick and wounded, but 
more especially so by shedding over disaster the hope- 
fulness created by her self-possession, and seeming 
insensibility to the j^robability of the failure of her 
husband's final triumph over the enemy. 

At the conclusion of active hostilities, the then 
Secretary of War, addressing Gen. Jesup, said : " You 
will establish posts at Tampa, and on the eastern shore, 
and wherever else they are in your opinion necessary 
to preserve the peace of the country ; and I would 
suggest the propriety of leaving Col. Zachary Taylor, 
of the First Infantry, in command of them." Agreea- 
bly to this order, General Taylor in time of peace 
repeated his previously pui'sued life on the north west- 
3rn frontiers, of forming new military stations in the 
wilderness and paving the way for the amelioration of 



380 MAKGARET TAYLOR. 

peaceful populations. If he Lad one tliouglit that ho 
needed repose, or that his patriotism was overtaxed by 
such a continued demand on his time, he had the com- 
forts of a home and a devoted wife with him, and thus 
cheered and sustained, he patiently performed his severe 
duties ; thus the country was indebted to Mrs. Taylor 
for the constant services perlbrmed by her gallant 
husband. 

In the year 1840, General Taylor, who now had 
almost become forgotten in this obscurity of the Flcn'ida 
swamps, asked to be relieved of his command, and 
soon afterward arrived with his fsimily in New Orleans. 
The " Old Colonel," as he was called by the citizens of 
Louisiana, came unostentatiously, and was permitted 
much to his own gratification, to proceed quietly to 
Baton Rouge, which place should be for awhile, at 
least, the headquarters of his family. With this un- 
derstanding, Mrs. Taylor joyfully established herself 
with surroundings more comfortable than were afforded 
in the Florida swamps. 

This idea encouraged her to arrange a home which 
she hoped would only be abandoned when the " Gen- 
eral " had selected some quiet place, where they would 
together peacefully end their days. 

The barracks at Baton Rouge are picturesquely sit- 
uated upon the high land, that here, in a sort of a 
l)euinsula, rising out of the surrounding level, reaches 
the river. The soldiers usually quartered at Baton 
Rouge were mustering along the banks of the Red 
River, and the buildings were left, save a single com- 
pany of infantry, without occupants, and Mrs. Taylor 



HER COTTAGE AT BATON IIOUGE. 381 

could select her " quarters" with all the facilities the 
place afforded. Leaviug the imposing brick buildings, 
with their comfortable arrangements for housekeeping, 
to the entire possession of one or two officers' families, 
Mi's. Taylor selected a little tumble-down cottage, sit- 
uated directly on the banks of the river, which was 
originally erected for, and inhabited by the Captain- 
Commandant, when the post belongc.'d to Spain. 

In the long years of its existence, the cottage, consist- 
ing only of a suite of tliree or fjur rooms, inclosed under 
galleries, had become quaint in appearance and much out 
of repair, and was hardly considered else than a sort of 
admitted wreck of former usefulness, left because it was 
a harmless familiar o})ject, entirely out of the way of the 
lawn and parade ground. To Mr . Taylor's eye, this 
old cottage seemed to possess peculiar charms, for she 
promptly decided to give up the better quarters at her 
disposal, as the wife of the Commander-in-Chief of 
the military department, and move into this cottage. 

With the aid of her own servants, two in number? 
and the usual assistance always afforded by invalid sol- 
diers unlit for military duties, she soon put the neglected 
place in proper order. It was remarked by the people of 
Baton Rouge, how rapidly the old " Spanish Comman- 
dant's cottage" became transformed into a comfortable 
dwelling under the superintendence of the new occu- 
pants. And in a country where so nmch is left to ser- 
vants, and where the mistress and daughters had so 
many at command, they set the noble example of doing 
much themselves. 

The work em]>loyed their minds, and they were 



382 MARGARET TAYLOR. 

happier in the perfornnnce of the details of Iheii' well 
di]'ected mdustry. It is certainly true that Mrs. Tay- 
lor and her daughter, Miss Betty, wei-e evidently too 
much en2:a2:ed in niana2:in2: their household duties to 
have time for unhappiness or regrets, if they had cause 
to indulge in them. 

The house had but four rooms, surrounded on all 
sides by a verandah, and thus in the hottest weather 
there was always a shady side, and in the coldest, one 
most sheltered ; and so cozy and comfortable did the 
house become under the management of its new mis- 
ti-ess, that Mrs. Taylor was most thoroughly justified 
in her choice by the universal commendation of the 
citizens of the town, — that it was now the pleasantest 
residence in all the country round, and its inmates were 
probablj'^ as contented and happy as people can be. 

General Taylor himself was not idle, but was kept 
busy visiting Fort Gibson and Fort Smith, until finally, 
to be near his family, was at his own request trans- 
ferred to Fort Jesup, Louisiana. He bought the 
house selected by his family within his militaiy de- 
partment. The domestic life of General Taylor's 
family was now complete. He had performed public 
duties enough his friends thought, to permit him to in- 
dulge in the luxury of being left quietly at the head' 
(|uarters of a frontier department, where he could en- 
joy repose fi-om severe military duties, look aftei- his 
neglected private interests, and for the few years that 
remained live a kind of private life. Alas ! how the 
dream was to be dissipated. 

Texas was at this time a State, acting independently 



SURROUNDED BY FAMILY AND FRIENDS. 383 

of Mexico, yet unacknowledged as such by the mother 
country. The Texans, inspired by the difficulties of 
their situation, and surrounded by political influence 
in the United States, agitated the question of conaing 
into the Union. The result was that General Santa 
Anna, then President of Mexico, made preparations 
which contemplated, the reassertion of the national 
government in the revolted province. 

This naturally made the southern border line of 
Louisiana, the Sabine., an object of attack, and as Gen- 
eral Taylor had, with the idea of being left in peaceful 
retirement, asked to be in command in Louisiana, he 
unconsciously placed himself in the very position that 
was to call him into a more active and important field 
of duty than had yet been entrusted to him. 

Mrs. Taylor, meantime, painfully unconscious of 
the drama that was opening before her, calmly, and full 
of content, Avent about her domestic duties. A garden 
was planted, and she cherished the first signs of the 
gi'owing vegetation with almost childish delight. Her 
old friends araons; the citizens of the neisfhborhood 
made friendly visits. Miss Betty, who was now in the 
very perfection of her blooming womanhood, was pop- 
ular with the young ladies of her age and station. 

The " old General " was here and there, according 
to his habits ; one day away attending to some military 
matter, then enjoying what seemed to him an endless 
source of interest, the examination of the w^orkings of 
plantation life. He began, in fact, to assume the airs 
of an agriculturist ; invested what means he had in a 
cotton farm on the Mississippi, and looked forward to 



384 MAHGARET TAYLOU. 

the time \vlien his income wonhl be lar<re and liberal 
for the pursuits of peace. 

All this time to the south of General Taylor's mil- 
itary department there were signs of trouble, and one 
day he received from the Adjutant-General of the 
Army a letter, which announced that there was great 
danger of a hostile incursion of Indians on the south- 
ern border of his department. The letter thus con- 
cluded : " Should the apprehended hostilities with 
the Indians alluded to break out, an officer of rank — 
probably yourself — will be sent to connnand the 
United States forces to be put in the field." 

The quiet domestic life so much desired l)y Mrs. 
Ta}'lor was becoming a dream. The events which 
followed so I'apidly soon placed her husband on the 
banks of the Sabine as commander-in-chief of the 
" Army of Occupation." A succeeding order, and he 
invaded the disputed territory, and by one single 
strife rose from the comparative obscurity of a frontier 
fighter to be the observed of all the world, in a con- 
flict where two Christian nations were to struggle for 
supremacy in an appeal to arms. The succeeding ac- 
tions, that began at Palo Alto and ended at Buena 
Vista, made him for the time being, a hero. While 
these events were culminating, Mrs. Taylor and Miss 
T>etty remained in the little cottage on the banks of the 
Mississippi, each hour becoming objects of greater in- 
terest, juid from their quietness and unobti'usive life 
making themselves dear to tlie nation. 

But the applause and flattery that began to reach 
the inmates of the old Spanish cottage made no appar- 



ITER ]Mly\<rrj(JAL JOFFORTS. 385 

ent impression. Mrs. Taylor, while her hushaiid dis" 
tinguislied himself on the llio Grande, only worked 
harder in her little garden, and she had no superior 
among the planters of the vicinity of Baton Rouge in 
the raising of succulent luxuries for the table, and slio 
t^et^mingly took more pride in showing these ti-iuniphs 
of her industiy than she did in hearing compliments 
upon her husband's growing fame. -Nay, more than 
this, she instituted a miniature dairy, and added to her 
other comforts what was almost unknown at the time 
in the vicinity — an abundance of fresh milk and butter 
It may be readily imagined that with such care and 
supervision tlie little cottage in the garrison was 
ilhisti'ative of domestic comfort nowhere else sur- 
passed. Thus practically Mrs. Taylor taught the 
young wives of tlie officers residing in the barracks 
their duties, and prepared them by her excellent ex- 
ample to perform the arduous task imposed upon them 
as soldiers' wives in a manner best calculat(id to insure 
their own happiness and secure honor and I'enown to 
theii- patriotic husbands. 

But Mrs. Taylor's usefulness did not end witli the 
perfect performance of her household resj)onsibilities. 
The town of Baton Bouge at this time had no Protes- 
tant Episcopal Church. It was a want which she, in 
common with other officers' wives and some few per- 
sons in the village, felt keenly; and in her quiet, 
practical way, she set about meeting the demand. It 
was of course only necessary for her to designate a 
proper room in the garrison buildings to be used as a 
chapel, when it was at once prepar(;d for that pui-i>ose. 



386 MARGARET TAYLOR. 

81ie superintended with others the labor necessary to 
fit up a chapel, then used her intluence to secure the 
occasional services of a rector who resided at some 
distance away. Meantime her expressed wish that 
" the service " be I'egnlarly read was responded to, and 
thus was secured to Baton Rouge a commencement of 
a religious movement that in a few subsequent years 
crystallized in the building of a handsome church, and 
the establishment of a permanent and intelligent 
congregation. 

This garrison chapel in time became a place of 
great interest. Owing to active hostilities in Mexico 
the number of officers' wives increased, and it included, 
as may be supposed, some of the most accomplished 
and elegant ladies in the land. Their husbands, gal- 
lant and noble soldiers, were involved in the duties of 
actual war, and they, brave-hearted and courageous, 
comforted each other. As the news came that actual 
collision was threatened, some of these ladies, unable 
to control their anxiety for the safety of their husbands, 
would be overcome witli suppressed emotion, and grow 
for the moment, wild with terror. It was on these 
occasions thnt Mrs. Taylor and Miss Betty nuiintained 
their self-possession, and had kind words and hopeful 
suircfestions for those sufferinsf sisters. And when at 
last some rumors reached Baton llouge of battles 
fought, of blood being shed, of men and officers falling 
in the sti'ife ; when those heart-stricken wives and 
daughters of the soldiers engaged were left to the 
agony of apprehension, Mrs. Taylor still always calm 
and cheerful was a constant source of comfort, and shed 



MAllRIAGE OF HER DAUGHTER. 3.87 

around her an atmospliere of hope, an inspiration of 
true courage. At last, when names were given of 
those who fell on tlie fields of Palo Alto and Eesaca 
de la Palraa, the stricken ones of the garrison suppressed 
their wild sorrow, lest they should wound the feelings 
of their superior in rank and influence, and in the little 
chapel founded by Mrs. Taylor, sought through the 
holy influences of religion that consolation that could 
reconcile them to the irretrievable loss of friends, 
brothers, fathers, and husbands. There was, at thia 
time amid these scenes of actual war, a bit of domes- 
tic history revived in Mrs. Taylor's mind that no doubt 
made a strong impression. 

General Taylor was a great admirer of business 
men, and was opposed to his daughters marrying offi- 
cers of the army. He condemned his own life by say- 
ing that soldiers never had a home, and in this senti- 
ment was cordially sustained by Mrs. Taylor, who no 
doubt in her heart reviewed her varied life from place 
to place on the frontiers, and her constant separations 
from her husband, with a regret she could not conceal. 
It was this cause that called forth so much opposition 
from the family to Lieutenant Jefferson Davis marry- 
ing the second daughter, Sarah, which opposition re- 
sulted in an elopement and runaway marriage. Gene- 
ral Taylor at the time this occurred was away from 
home on military service, and when he heard of it, he 
expressed himself in the most unmeasured terms of 
disapprobation. He seemed utterly insensible to the 
feelings which inspired the young people in such an 
adventu.e, and persisted in looking upon " young Da« 



3SS ^lAEGARET TAYLOR. 

vis " as liaviiig done a dishonorable tiling, and hia 
daiieliter as beino- entirely re^'ardless of her filial ob- 
ligations. To all protests calculated to lessen his in- 
dignation, he would make the invariable replies, " that 
no honorable man would thus defy the wishes of pa- 
rents, and no truly affectionate daughter be so re- 
gardless of her duty." General Taylor, though a man 
of strong impulses, and possessed of but little training 
to conceal his feelings, except what military discipline 
enforced, was at heart of a generous and forgiving na- 
ture ; and no doubt time would have brought about its 
softening influences, as the usual ending which follows 
all runaway matches, would have taken place, — recon- 
ciliation and entire forgiveness. But ere this occurred, 
within a few short months of her marriage, Mrs. Da- 
vis suddenly died, and a beloved child upon whom he 
had garnered all his affections, passed forever away, 
the last words she had from him being those of re- 
proof and condemnation. This incident and the sud- 
den death of her daughter left a deep impression upon 
Mrs. Taylor's life. Naturally of a quiet disposition and 
living from necessity almost entirely away from influ- 
ences of society, this sad domestic history was left to 
make the greatest possible impression upon her mind. 
That General Taylor keenly cherished for long years 
his sense of sorrow was destined to be most romantic- 
ally displayed. His call for volunteer troops at the time 
he believed his little army was imperilled, on the eve 
of its memorable march from Corpus Christi to the 
Rio Grande, was answered promptly hy Louisiana and 
Mississippi. The last named State piomptly organized 



GEN. TAYLOR AND COL. DAVLS AT BT'ENA VISTA. 389 

a splendid regiment, composed of the very elite of the 
native young men, and Jefferson Davis was elected its 
commander. 

At Monterey, the l.st Missis'sippi regiment was sta- 
tioned at one of the forts in the suburbs of the city, 
and in the battle that ended with the defeat of Am- 
pudia, its Mexican defender, Jefferson Davis received 
a slight wound. Before this event, at the time and 
subsequently, it was noticed that Colonel Davis and 
Genei'al Taylor had never met, and it was evident that 
this was designed, and not the result of accident — there 
was an understanding seemingly that kept them apart. 
The cause of this was freely discussed, and it came to 
the surface that a reconciliation had never taken place 
between General Taylor and Colonel Davis on account 
of the elopement, and so things remained until the 
close of the three days' struggle that ended in triumph 
at Buena Vista. It was on the occasion when victory 
seemed hesitating where she should bestow her wreath 
— when the men of the Xorth and the West had ex- 
hausted their eneigies — when Clay, Crittenden, Yell, 
and their brave compatriots slept in death on the 
bloody field — at this moment, when Santa Anna be- 
lieved and announced himself the hero of the field, 
and when he concentrated his favorite troops to make 
a last charge upon our dispirited and exhausted col- 
umns, that Colonel Davis, at the head of his Mississippi 
regiment nobly sustained the shock, and sent the foe 
back disappointed and dismayed. Then it was that 
" Old Zach," seeing tliat he had saved himself, his gal- 
lant men, and his country's honor, that his heart had 



390 MAIKJARET TAYLOR. 

no place but for gratitude, and the long estranged em- 
braced each other and wept tears of reconciliation upon 
the battle-field. 

Time passed on, and General Taylor completed hig 
brilliant campaign. Our country had then, for nearly 
two generations been unused to war, and the magnifi- 
cent achievements of " old Rough and "Ready," filled the 
hearts of the people with the intensest admiration. 
The old cottage on the low bluff at Baton Rouge, 
gradually became of classic interest. Grateful people 
traveling along the highway of the great Mississippi, rep- 
2-esenting every State in the Union, and every civilized 
nation of the earth, would admii'ingly point out General 
Taylor's residence. If any of those great western 
floating palaces stopped at Baton Rouge, some of the 
passengers would climb up the hill and visit the " gar- 
rison grounds," and the young ladies especially would 
make the pi-lgrimage in hopes they might see Miss 
Betty, whom they with woman's (piickness of percep- 
tion, felt was to be the first lady of the land, by pre- 
siding at the White House. 

How much the neatness of that home, its character- 
istic simplicity, its quiet domestic comforts, the self- 
possession and unpretending, yet lady-like manners of 
its inmates, impressed themselves on the public, and. 
prepared tlie way for that popular affection that greet- 
ed General Taylor on his return from Mexico, and cul- 
minated in his triumphant election to the Presidency, 
is difficult to decide ; but that it had an element of 
strength and of vast importance is certain, and pre- 
sents in a strong view how much can be done by the 



HER HUSBAND RETURTsTS HOME. 391 

devoted, sensible wife, in aiding her husband in achiev- 
ing: success. 

Meantime, General Taylor returned thetrium[)liant 
soldier to the United States. However wonderfnl 
were the subsequent victoi-ies achieved over the Moxi 
cans, in the brilliant niarcli from Vera Cruz to tlie City 
of Aztecs, the novelty of the war when this was enact 
ed, was gone. The first impressions I'emained vivid 
the subsequent ones were received with gratification, 
but . not enthusiasm. General Taylor returned, not 
oidy a militaiy liero, but over his head was suspended 
the wreath of an approaciiing civic triumph ; and the 
little cottage on the bank of ihe Mississii)j)i that Mrs. 
Taylor selected for her strictly private residence, be- 
came a Mecca for pilgrims fiom all lands, and for more 
than a year was the centre of interest, where patriot- 
ism, intellect, and beauty paid homage. In recalling 
the impressions made upon the public through the 
j)i-ess, it is well remarked vvdiat a full share of compli- 
ments were paid to Mrs. Tayloi*, and how grateful was 
the task of every one to j^raise Miss Betty for her 
agreeable manners, her hospitality, and her resemblance 
to her father in matters of good sense, and the further 
possession of all accomplishments that adorn her sex. 
But this flow of visitors, this public ovation, this con- 
stant Vmstle about Mrs. Taylor was submitted to and 
borne, but never received her endorsement and sym- 
pathy. Her heart was in the possible enj(jyment of a 
quiet household. She saw nothing attractive in the 
{surroundings of the White House. All this " worldly 
glory " defeated her womanly ambition, and her life- 



392 IMAr.GAKET TAYLOR. 

long dream that, at some time or another, " the Gen* 
eral" would be relieved of his })ul)lic duties, and that 
together in the retirement of their own estate, unno- 
ticed and unknown except to their friends, they might 
together peacefully end their days ; and that the rea- 
lization of her modest ambition was due to her, for the 
separations and wanderings that had characterized all 
her early married life. 

General Taylor was by habit a public servant, and 
his future, as shaped by circumstances, he quietly ac- 
cepted. But Mi-s. Taylor oppi)sed his being a candi- 
date for the Presidency. She spoke of it as a thing to 
be lamented, and declared when such a position was 
first foreshadowed, that the General's acquired habits 
would not permit him to live under the constraints of 
metropolitan life; and to those of her intimate friends 
who spoke of his being President, she sadly I'eplied, 
''That it was a plot to deprive her of his society, and 
shorten his life by unnecessary cai-e and responsibility." 
With the announcement that General Taylor was 
PresideMit elect, came his resignation as an officer of the 
army. It was after all a sad day for him and his fam- 
ily, when he severed a connection that had lasted so 
long, and had been made so memorable by a life of 
conscientious duty. Miss Betty now appeared on the 
scene as an agent of national interest. The White 
House under Mrs. Polk had been grave and formal. 
There was a cold respectability and correctness about 
it, that was somewhat oppressive to the citizens of 
Washington ; and there was a dc^gree of earnest pleas- 
ure created in the public mind when it was understood 



BETTY TAYLOR BLISS. 393 

tltat as a consequent of General Taylor's election, tliero 
would ])rL'si(le over the White House a lady eminently 
attractive in hei* personal appeai'ance, young in yeai-s, 
accomplished in mind, and made more interestiiig, if 
possible, by being the bride of Major Bliss, who had 
served so faithfully under her father as his acconi- 
] >1 ished Adj utant-Gcneral. 

Eliza})eth Taylor, tliird and youngest daughter of 
President Taylor, was twenty-two years of age, when, 
as Mrs. Bliss, she assumed the formal duties of Host- 
ess of the White House, her mother, fi-om disinclina- 
tion, refusing to accept the responsibility of official re- 
ceptions. Mrs. Bliss, or Miss Betty, as she was popu- 
larly called, -was at this time admired by all who saw 
her, and had the distinction of being the youngest 
daughter of any chief magistrate who had honored our 
Presidential receptions with her presence. Her fjice 
was pleasant, her smiles exceedingly attractive, and her 
eyes beamed with intelligence. She had been through- 
out her life but little with her parents. While not 
among her relations in Virginia or Kentucky, she was 
at some boarding school. Her education was complet- 
ed at Philadelphia, after which she resided with her 
parents. No inauguration of any of the later Presi- 
dents was more enthusiastically celebrated than Gen- 
eral Taylor's. He was at the time the nation's idol. 
Everything in his history charmed the popular mind, 
and the ftict that he was a total stranger to Washing- 
ton — that his family were unknown, gave a mystery 
and novelty to the whole proceeding quite different to 
common place precedence. 



394 MARGARET TAYLOR. 

For this reason, more than ordinary encoura^'eraent 
was given to the celebration of the occasion by a 
grand ball. A wooden building of enormous size was 
erected, which at the time was considered an " immense 
affair." It was tastefully decorated with flags and 
other proper insignia; in the enthusiasm of the hour, 
many articles were loaned for its decorations by citi- 
zens, who ordinarily took no interest in these "stated 
occasions." The best music that could be obtained 
was in attendance, and to give the crowning zest, " Miss 
Betty " was to be present. The Lady of the Man- 
sion for the next four years, young, handsome, and 
hopeful, was to be presented to the admiring public. 

There was the usual crowd and the characteristic 
confusion ; but nevertheless there pervaded the multi- 
tude an intense desire to behold the new occupant of 
the White House. There was a " Hero President." 
There was a charming young bride, a young and grace- 
ful lady to do the honors of the public receptions. 
" At eleven o'clock. General Taylor entered, leaning on 
the arms of Major Seaton and Speaker Winthrop." 
His fine eye was bright, his step was elastic, he was 
brave, he was a conqueror, he was President, and the 
gentlemen expressed their feelings in spontaneous 
cheers, while ladies waved their handkerchiefs and 
many wept for sympathy. A silence ensued, a move- 
ment at the head of the room indicated a new scene 
was to be enacted. The throng pressed back, and Mrs. 
Bodisco, then the young and handsome wife of the 
Kussian Minister, enveloped in a cloud of crimson 
satin and glistening with diamonds, supported by two 



HER LIFE IN THE WHITE HOUSE. 395 

ambassadors emblazoned in gold bice and orders, came 
forward, — just behind were two " Louisiana beauties,*' 
a blonde and a brunette, whose brilliant charms subse- 
quently divided the gentlemen in perplexity as to 
which should be acceded the palm of the belle of 
the evening. "Which is Miss Betty?" whispered the 
throng as these queenly creatures, by their native 
ch irms, without the aid of dress, eclipsed the more 
glowing splendor of the Russian court. Then behind 
these came " Miss Betty," plainly dressed in white, a 
simple flower in her hair, timid and faltering, yet with, 
an expression in her eye that showed she was Zachary 
Taylor's favorite child. The expectations of the vast 
crowd were for the moment realized, and then follow- 
ed expressions of enthusiasm that were overwhelming. 
The reaction that followed the inauguration in 
Washington was, as usual, intense. The season was 
more than usually warm, and the Congress fled from 
the Capital. Mrs. Taylor was never visible in the re- 
ception-room ; she received her visitors in her private 
apartments, and escaped all observation from choice. 
Once established in her new home, she selected such 
rooms as suited her ideas of housekeeping, and, as far 
as was possible, resumed the routine that characterized 
her life at Baton Kouge. As was her merit, she at- 
tended personally to so much of it as affected the per- 
sonal comforts of the General, and it was not long be- 
fore the '' opj)osition " found fault with her simple 
habits, and attempted, but without effect, to lessen the 
public esteem felt for General Taylor, by indulging in 
offensive personalities. 



396 MARGARET TAYLOR. 

General Taylor was, from principle and choice, an 
abstemious man. On the sixtli of July, tbe dullness 
of Washington was enlivened by the presence of 
Father Matliew, the Apostle of Temperance. To 
know him, General Taylor invited him to the White 
House, The ]3ress discussed this honorable notice of 
the great philanthropist, and spoke of "Miss Betty" 
as presiding at the reception with unusual grace and 
affability. 

The winter following oj^ened officially and fashion- 
ably with the commencement of Congress. There was 
then in the Senate, Clay, Webster, Calhoun, Benton, 
Cas«, and lesser- but still shining lights. Mr. Fillmore 
presided over the body with dignity, and such an ar- 
ray of talent and statesmanship divided the public 
mind with the claims of the White House. 

Few official receptions were given. The excitement 
attending the admission of California — the fiery elo- 
cpience of Mr. Clay — the attack of Mr. Calhoun or 
Mr. Benton, and the growls of disappointed office- 
seekers, divided the current that might have otherwise 
ilo^ved on to the Executive Mansion, and it is apparent 
that this created no regrets in the minds of the ladies 
of the President's House. It was soon understood that 
set, formal, and official dinnei's were not coveted, and 
they weie not encouraged. But social and unceremo- 
nious visits prevailed l^eyond any precedent, and Miss 
Betty was always ready to dispense the honors of her 
exalted position, with a grace and frankness that was 
constantly securing for her a wide circle of admiring 
friends. Thus the first Avinter of General Taylors 
tei]ii passed away. 



A CHANGE IN HER SOCIAL LIFE. 397 

To those wlio were familiar with the actual life of 
the White House, it was a23parent that a change had 
gradually taken place in the feelings of the female in- 
mates. Mrs. Taylor had gradually abandoned much 
of her personal superintendence of domestic matters, 
and Miss Betty had assumed the manner of one who 
began to appreciate the importance of her social eleva- 
tion. The embarrassments that General Taylor suf- 
fered from the betrayal of "false friends" had the 
double effect, to make the members of his family more 
devoted to each other, and at the same time created a re- 
solve to more ostentatiously perform the duties of their 
high social position. A revolution, political and social, 
had been resolved upon without the parties interested 
beino; awai'e of the cbano-e. This new era was inaug-u- 
rated by the ladies of the President's House having a 
reception on the 4th of March, 1860, in honor of the 
inauguration. The affair was of singular brilliancy. 
It was remarked at the time that the ladies never ap- 
peared to better advantage ; the rustling of costly 
dresses, and the display of diamonds were paramount, 
while the gentlemen, for the time being, eschewing the 
license of Republican institutions, accepted the laws 
of good society, and appeared in dress coats and white 
kid gloves. General Taylor surprised his friends by 
th© courtliness and dignity of his manner. Some of 
his soldiers Avho saw him in his battles said there was 
mischief in his eye. He was evidently attempting a 
new role, and doing it with success. 

Miss Betty, as hostess, was entirely at her ease, and 
made the ladies by her affability feel at home in the 



398 MARGARET TAYLOR. 

National Mansion. For tlie first time, at tlie public 
recej^tions, slie led off in conversation, and her re* 
marks were full of quiet liumor and good sense. The 
following day, the papers expressed their admiration 
in different ways. "Miss Betty" was complimented 
with the remark that, in manner and grace at a public 
reception, Victoria could not surpass her. General 
Taylor, it was said, " had at last determined to open 
the campaign for the second term, and those about 
him, who were intriguing for the succession for others 
than for himself, would have to stand aside." These 
suspicions were justified by constantly repeated rumors 
that Cabinet changes would be made that would en 
tirely change the character of the general Administra- 
tion. Mr. Webster began now to visit the White 
House, and was treated with marked consideration by 
its female inmates. The influence of the ladies of the 
White House began to be felt in political circles, and 
what had been for the preceding year a negative, now 
became a j^ositive jDOwer. Gentlemen who had dis- 
tinguished themselves for the early advocacy of Gen- 
eral Taylor's election, bat who had received no I'ecog- 
nition, were now welcomed to the White House. It 
was evident that a radical change had come over its 
inmates. General Taylor seemed at last to begin to 
understand his duties, and knowinor them, he com- 
menced their performance with the same zeal and 
determination that marked his military career. Four 
months of spring and summer passed away. The 
seventy-fourth anniversary of our national Fourth of 
July was approaching. It was decided that the event 



ILLNESS OF PRESIDENT TAYLOR. 399 

sliould be celebrated by the hijing of the corner-stone 
of the Washington Monnment. . General Taylor ac- 
cepted the invitation to be present withont hesitation, 
and surprised his friends at the pleasure he evinced 
at the opportunity. 

The day was unusually warm and oppressive for 
Washington City. The procession out to the banks 
of the Potomac moved slowly, and General Taylor 
suffered with the intense heat. Upon taking his seat 
upon the stand, he remarked that he had never before 
experienced such unpleasant sensations fi^om the sun, 
much as he had borne its unshielded rays in the 
swamps of Florida and Mexico. General Foote was 
the official orator, and Washington Parke Custis took 
part in the proceedings. It was noticed that Gen. 
Foote addressed many of his most pointed remarks in 
praise of Washington to General Taylor. The papers 
of the day said that " when the orator quoted from a 
letter of Hamilton to Washington, protesting against 
his refusing to serve a second term. President Taylor, 
who sat on the left of the orator, roused fi'om his list- 
less attitude, as if desirous of catching every word." 
" Perhaps," added a reporter, " General Taylor was 
thinking what would be his conduct in a similar 
emergency." 

From the celebration the President returned to the 
White House, and to relieve himself fi'om the terrible 
thirst the heat had occasioned, in accordance with his 
primitive tastes, he partook freely of cold water and 
ft'uit. In less than an hour he was seized with symp- 
toms of a fearful sickness. The announcement that 



400 MARGARET TAYLOR. 

the President was prostrated by indisposition, strucli 
the people of Washington with proj)hetic terror, for 
the news went from house to house, as if presaging 
the fatal result. General Taylor, after the first parox- 
ysms were over, seemed to anticipate that he would 
never recover. He yielded to the solicitations of Lis 
physicians, and the efforts of his afflicted family to 
assist him. On tlie evening of tlie third day of his 
suflerings, he said : 

" I should not be surprised if this were to termi- 
nate in death. I did not exj)ect to encounter what has 
beset me since my elevation to the Presidency. God 
knows, I have endeavored to fulfil wliat I considered to 
be an honest duty ; but I have been mistaken, my mo- 
tives have been misconstrued, and my feelings grossly 
betrayed." 

Mrs. Taylor, wlio heard these remarks, for the first 
time admitted to herself the possibility of her hus- 
band's death. She then recalled, in the bitterness of 
her soul, the remark she made when it was announced to 
her that possibly General Taylor would ])e President : 

" It was a plot to dej^rive her of his society and 
shorten his life by unnecessary care and responsibility." 
This was indeed about to happen, and in the agony of 
that hour she prostrated herself at her husband's bed- 
side, while her children clung around her. 

The sun, on the morning of tlie 9th of July, 1850, 
rose gloriously over the White House. The Presi- 
dent's family and Colonel Bliss had remained by his 
bedside all night, refusing the indulgence of necessary 
repose. Each houi' it was evident that the catastrophe 



DEATH OF THE PRESIDENT. 401 

was nearer. Mrs. Taylor would not believe that cleatli 
was possible. He had escaped so many dangers, had 
been through so much exposure, he could not die sur 
I'oundpd with so many comforts and loved so intensely 
by his fanuly and friends. The emotions of apprehen- 
sions were so oppressive, that opposed nature Avith 
Mrs. Taylor found relief in fits of insensibility. 

At tinrty-five minutes past ten, p. m., the President 
called his family about him, to give them his last 
earthly advice and bid them his last good-by. No 
conventional education conld restrain the naturally ex- 
pressive grief of the members of this afflicted household, 
and their lieart-rending cries of J^gony reached the sur- 
rounding street. " I am about to die," said the Presi- 
dent, firmly, "I expect the smumons soon. I have en- 
deavored to discharge all ray official duties faithfully. 
I regret nothing, but that I am about to leave my 
friends.'' 

Mrs. Taylor and family occupied the White House 
until the sad ceremonies of the funeral ended with the 
removal of the late President's remains. The bustle 
and the pomp was now painful to her sight and ears, 
and she realized, in the fearful interval of time, how 
truly he was dead, who, though the nation's successful 
Gieneral and a President, was to her only a cherished 
husband. It can easily be imagined that, as the glit- 
tering, heartless display of the Executive Mansion com- 
menced fading away from her sight, that she must have 
legretfully turned to the peaceful era of her last home 
at Baton liouge, and the nnpi-etentious cottage, the 
neglected garden ; and the simple life connected with 



402 MARGARET TAYLOR. 

these associations, must have appeared as a dream of 
happiness when contrasted with the fearful year and a 
half of sad experiences in Wasliington. From the time 
Mrs. Taylor left the White House, she never alluded 
to her residence there, except as connected with the 
death of her husband. 

Accompanied by her daughter, Mrs. Bliss, after 
leaving Washington, she first sought a home among her 
relations in Kentucky, but finding it oppressive by per- 
sonal utterances of sympathy, she retired to the residence 
of her only son, near Pascagoula, Louisiana, where, in 
August, 1852, she died, possessed of the same Christian 
spirit that marked her conduct througliout her 1; e. The 
sudden and lamented death of M;ijor Bliss soon fol- 
lowed, and witliont children by her marriage " Miss 
Betty Taylor," as she must ever be known in history, 
studiously sought the retirement of j)rivate life, and 
found it in the accomplished circles of the "old fami- 
lies of Virginia," with whom she was by ties of blood 
so numerously connected. By a second marriage, her 
historical name passed away. But when the traditions 
and histories of the White House have the I'omance 
of time thrown around them, Miss Betty Taylor will 
be recalled to mind, and for her will there be a sym- 
pathy that is associated with youth, for she was the 
youngest of the few women of America who have a 
right to the title of Hostess of the President's House. 



WII. 

Ain(!AlL KII.LMOKK 

I 

AiuoAii, rowKijH, \\u\ youiiii^csf, oliild of* IjOIIUIcI 
P()\v(M's, ;i pi'omiiu'iit l?;i])list I'lcrn'ymMH of lliat d.-iy, 
Av.'is l)()rn in Stillwater, Snnitoi!,";!. (\)unt.y, New York, 
JMaivIi, IT US. 

Dr. Powers w;is of M:iss;ic]iusetts tlosciMil, beiiiij; 
one of the nine thousand six hundred and twenty-four 
deseeiulanls M' Ili'ury Lehmd, of Sherhiirne, .*ind a 
eousin and lit'e-loni!; iVieud of tiu; cH'centric and tal- 
ented .loliu Leland. Thoui^h not a wavdthy man, lio 
yet possessed a. eonipetence, miuI his prolession was tlio 
most honored and respeeicd ol' all j)nrsuits. 

Oidy a sliort decades I'rom tlie martyr memories of 
JNew l<]iii;'land, and not entirely removed from tlu^ in- 
lluenccs of that severely reli<:;i(»us section, lie was yet 
without the stei'uness and rigor usual to individuals 
holdiuLi: his hii>h ollice. 

He died while yi^t his daughliu- Avas in her inlaiiey, 
leaving (o the care of a watchful mother her education 
and training. 

Sooji al'terward, Mi'S. Powers, fmding that her in- 
conu^ would not justify her in liberality ol' expeiuli- 
ture, determined to renu)vc with her l)i-other and sev- 
er;d families of relations and friends to a, iVontier 
st'tt-lemeut, and thus, at the early ag(^ oi' ten, we llnd 
our little heroine established in Ium- new home in 
Cayuga Ct)unty. Here began the stei-n lessons which 



404 ABIGAIL FILLMORE. 

ultimately educated tlie picueer cliild, and from this 
point may be dated the foundation of her noble char- 
acter, made strong through discipline and spiritualized 
through sorrow. She was studious and ambitious, and 
with her mother's assistance, rapidly progressed in 
knowledge ; her improvement must have been very 
rapid, for at an early age she assume the duties of a 
teacher, and for many years continued her chosen avo- 
cation. Her mother, after the settlement of her fath- 
er's estate, being greatly reduced in outward circum- 
stances, was compelled to use the most undeviating 
industry and economy ; and she, feeling the necessity of 
relieving her of the burden of her education, began to 
teach, during the summer months, to pay her winter's 
tuition. Thus, alternating: between teachino;; and stu- 
dying, between imparting and receiving instruction, 
she became a thorough scholar and remarkable woman. 
There are circumstances of j)overty which throw an 
interest around those involved in them far greater than 
the noblest gifts of prosperous fortune could confer. 
The sight of a young aspiring woman actuated by the 
loftiest, purest desire implanted by nature, overcoming 
obstacles, laughing to the winds the remonstrances of 
weak and timid natures, and mounting, by patient toil 
and unceasing labor, the rugged hill of wisdom, — is 
calculated to dignify humanity and render homage to 
God. 

Man may at once determine his calling and assei-t 
his place — woman has hers to seek, and however reso- 
lute she may appear, with all the dignity she may as- 
sume, there are hours of fearful despondency, and 



IIEK PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 405 

moments when, in the crowded avenues of trade, the 
craving for solitude and aloneness absorb the energies 
of her nature, and still the voice of ambition. Yet the 
example of this young life is proof that woman's de- 
pendence is more the result of custom, than the fiat of 
nature, and the record of her trials and final success is 
a testimonial of virtue's reward, and energy's omni- 
potence. 

Varied as were the experiences of Miss Powers' life, 
they only served to develop all the latent strength of 
her body as well as mind ; her singular embodiment of 
the physical was not less remai'kable than the depth 
and research of the intellectual. 

Commanding in person, for she was five feet six 
hiches in height, of exceeding fairness of complexion 
and delicacy of features, hers was a harmonious blend- 
ing of beauty and strength. But she did not j)ossess 
that mere superficial beauty which cannot retain if it 
awakens admiration. Hers was no statue-like perfec- 
t on of figure, nor classically symmetrical face. Gen- 
uine kindliness of heart beamed through her light, ex- 
pressive eyes, and her brow was the throne of pure and 
lofty inspirations. Perhaps, if any one of her features 
was more universally admired than the others, it was 
her lio-ht luxuriant hair, which fell in flowing curls 

CD 7 O 

round her finely-shaped head. 

Thus particular in describing her personal appear- 
ance, a circumstance never to be omitted in sketches 
of women, I but recognize this fact — that the fiice is 
the manuscript of the soul, and that the law of uner- 
ring nature is, the exterior is symbolical of the inner 
beins;. 



406 ABIGAIL FILLMORE. 

In tlie backwoods of New York State, where tLfi 
borders of the adjoining county were the limits of civil- 
ization, accustomed only to the society of the village 
people, Miss Powers passed the iirst twenty-eight years 
of her apparently uneventful life, but in reality, the in- 
tensity of her moral and affectional nature gave breadth 
and depth to her every-day existence, and in the 
quiet recesses of her heart she Kved life over more than 
once. 

Her occupation as a teacher was continued after 
her mother's second marriage, which occurred about 
this time, and henceforth her home was in the family 
of a much loved relation. It was while in this home 
that she first met Mr. Fillmore, then a clothier's ap- 
prentice, and during the winter months a teacher in 
the village school. 

His father's unwise choice of a profession for his 
son but added to his all-absorbino; desire to become a 
lawyer. But he was not yet twenty, his time was his 
parents', and his poverty compelled him to serve out 
his apprenticeship, and, even after he had commenced 
the study of law, to desire to return to his trade. 

The assistance of a gentleman who became much 
interested in the ambitious youth, enabled him to buy 
his time and devote himself to study. Thus he over- 
came the adverse circumstances which denied him free- 
dom of action, and attained for himself leisure to lay 
the foundation of future usefulness. 

His subsequent removal to Erie County deprived 
him of the society of Miss Powers — his now promised 
wife, and so limited were his means, that for three 



HER MARRIAGE. 407 

years lie was unable to travel a distance of one hundred 
and fifty miles to see her. 

In February, 1826, they were married, at the resi 
dence of her brother, Judge Powers, in Moravia. Erie 
County was as much a wilderness to the young wife, 
as Cayuga had been years before, but the obstacles to 
be overcome were not considered by the affectionate 
couple, and they started out in their married life buoy- 
ed by a confidence in their own strength, and a reli- 
ance on a higher power. 

Into the small house built by the husband's hands, 
the wife carried all the ambition and activity of other 
days, and at once resumed her avocation as a teacher, 
whilst performing the duties of maid-of-all-work, house- 
keeper, and hostess. 

Mr. Fillmore was thus enabled to practise his pro- 
fession, relieved of all care and responsibility by his 
thoughtful wife, and so rapid was his progress that in 
less than two years he was elected a member of the 
State Legislature. 

Mrs. Fillmore rendered her husband most efficient 
help in his struggle for eminence, and was the wings 
by which he soared so high. Instead of clogging his 
footsteps by her helplessness, she, with her intellectual 
strength, relieved and sustained his every effort. So 
enthusiastic and unchanmno- was her attacliment to 
him, that no duty was burdensome, no privation suffi- 
cient to cloud her brow. The strusrorles, those first 
years, with poverty and increasing cares wei'e fearful, 
but ber dignity never forsook her — her chosen path 
never became distasteful. Many are noble from choice, 



408 ABi(;rAiL fillmoiie. 

sLe was so fi'om necessity. The greatness of soul, and 
devotion to principle inherent in her nature, left no 
othei- course. 

A lettei' written in her neat style, now old and 
worn, has been placed in my hands hy a member of 
that happy household in which she resided so long. 
It was addi'essed to one of the sisters, now dead, and 
cherished by another for the reminiscences it recalls 
of the beautiful attachment which existed through life 
between these two friends. 

"Aurora, 2T^7i August, 1826. 

"Dear Maria: — Although I have been guilty of 
breaking my promise to you of writing, and treated 
you with neglect and indifference, still you are dear 
and near to me, still you are remembered with that 
affection which one must feel after being so long an 
inmate with so kind a girl, one who has bestowed upon 
ma so many acts of kindness and friendship. No, 
Maria, I feel that I can never forget your family. My 
mind often reverts to tlie plea^nt hours I have passed 
at your house. Many friendly conversations I have 
had witli your mother after the family had retired to 
rest, — but those hours are gone never to return, yet 
llie remembrance of them is sweet. Oh, that I nuiy 
again have the pleasure of spending a happy evening 
in your family with the little children sitting near me, 
asking a thousand interesting questions. Perliajis I 
may see that time next winter — I hope so. 

" Would you like to know how I am pleased with 
the country ? It does not appear to me as pleasant as 



REMOVAL TO BUFFALO. 409 

Cayuga, bnt perhaps it may in time. I enjoy myself 
as well as I expected to; the inhabitants, as far as 1 
am acquainted, appear friendly. I am not yet house- 
keeping, but am teaching school. But Mr. Dunning 
will give all these particulars more full}' than I can 
-vrite on this sheet of paper. You will have a pleasant 
visit with his sister Emily, I think her an amiable girl. 
" Maria, if you can forgive me for not writing, I hope 
you will let me hear from 3'ou by the bearer of this. 
Write me all the news. You cannot imagine how any 
little circumstance concerning my friends interests me, 
when absent so far from them. Ask Olive to write 
to me if she can find leisure. My best respects to 
your parents, and affectionate remembrance to your 
brothers and sisters, and believe me your sincere friend 
and cousin. 

"Abigail Fillmore. 

"Mr. Fillmore wished me to present his respects to 
yourself and parents. 

"To Miss Maria Fuller." 

In the spring of 1830, Mrs. Fillmore removed with 
her husband to Buffalo. In the enjoyment of her 
children's societj'-, her husband's prosperity, and the 
pleasure of entertaining her friends, she found great 
happiness, and as the years passed by, they were noted 
only for the peace and contentment they bi'ought her. 

As her life previous to this time had been spent in 
comparative seclusion, so now it was a scene of gay 
society. The social element was very largely develoj)ed 
in her nature, and constant practice rendered it a 



410 ABIGAIL FIJ.L.MORE. 

marked cLaracteristie. All the associations of her 
youth liad been those of the conutiy, and in its fre^li 
ness and beauty, as well as its drearier garb she liad 
revelled. Now, in her city home she was the same 
artless, warm-hearted woman of other years, basking 
in the brightness about her and reflecting upon others 
her own quiet peace. Well-balanced and self-reliant, 
affectionate and happy, there was wanting nothing to 
complete her character. The domestic harmony of her 
life can be partly appreciated from the I'emark made 
by her husband after her death. " For twentj^-seven 
years, my entire married life," he said, '^ I was always 
greeted with a Jiappy smile." 

The result of such unusual evenness of disposition 
was owing, in a great measure, to the tender sympathy 
and ennobling affectiou of her husband, whose ambition 
was only gratified when he saw that she was content. 
With her there was no variation or change, no de- 
spondency or doubt as to his success in any avocation ; 
she hovered round his pathway, a beacon, and the 
light never grew diui. True and faithful in all things, 
at all times, she ever was; but there was even more of 
ceaseless vigilance than mere faith implies, where he 
was concerned. To him who shielded her in her 
sensitiveness and overHowing affectional natui-e, and, by 
his gentleness and unremitting watchfulness, guarded 
every avenue of her heart from sorrow, she meted the 
wealth of her love, and fondness — and existed in the 
sunshine of his presence. After her husband's acces- 
sion to the Presidency, she went to tlie White House ; 
but the recent death of a sister kept her from entering 



HER DEATH I^NT WASHINGTON. ~ 411 

into the gayety of tlie outer world. As nuK^h as pos 
siWe she screened herself from public observation, and 
left to her daughter the duties devolving upon her. 
Her health had become impaired, and she rather 
shrank from the necessity of appearing before the 
world in the position in which she was more than 
competent to acquit herself. In such a formal routine 
of life she did not delight; hers was a confiding nature, 
and to her family she always turned for the happiness 
the world could not give. 

But only l>y the most exact details, by endless par- 
ticularities, breathing out her whole life and giving 
evidence, by their nature, of the depths from which they 
spring ; only by such means is it possible, in a degree, 
to give some perception of her remarkable life — the 
fountain can only be judged of by the channel througli 
which it flows. 

She died at Willard's Hotel, Washington- City, 
on the 30th of March, 1853. 

In testimony of respect to the memory of the de- 
ceased, the public offices were closed, both houses of 
Congress adjourned, and other marks of respect wei'e 
adopted. Her remains were conveyed to Buffalo, 
where, on the 2d of April, they were laid to rest. 

The accompanying letter, written by a well-kno^vn 
lady of Buffalo, who was much of the time an inmate^ 
of the White House during Mrs. Fillmore's stay there, 
is replete with interest, and gives us an insight into the 
home life of this noble woman, we could in no other 
way obtain. 

" The great interest I feel in your undertaking haa 



412 ABIGAIL fill:moke. 

outweigbed my diffidence and decided me in accord* 
auce with your request to state briefly some of my re- 
collectious of the habits and social traits of my hate 
friend, Mrs. Fillmore, with incidents of life at the White 
House. 

" The retiring modesty of manner so inseparable from 
the idea of a perfect lady, was eminently characteristic 
of ]\Irs. Fillmore. Although well qualified and, when 
occasion required, ever ready to act her part in the 
position which Providence assigned her, she much pre- 
ferred the quiet of domestic life. Her home was 
pleasant, and while she was a woman of strong common- 
sense, her tastes were highly refined. Especially was 
she fond of music and of flowers. Her love for the 
former received o-reat 2:ratificatiou from her dauo-hter's 
musical attainments, and her fondness for flowers 
amounted to a passion, and much of her time in her own 
home was devoted to their culture and care. 

" Mrs. Fillmore read much and carefully, and being 
possessed of excellent powers of observation, was con- 
sequently a well-informed and cultivated woman. 
With qualities like these, it is superfluous to say that, 
when she was called to preside at the AVhite House, 
she did it with dignity and proi)riety. She was not 
strong in health, and had sufl:ered much from a sprained 
ankle, from which she ne\ er iiilly recovered. Fortu- 
nately for her, the etiquette of Washington did not 
require the President and his wife to return visits or 
to attend parties, though I believe the President did 
sometimes dine with a cabinet minister. All the 
claims of society were met and attended to by the 



"RECOLLEOTTOT^S OF ITER LIFE. 41.*^ 

dangliter, and liow well slie, a yonng girl just from 
school, acquitted herself in this trying position, all wil] 
remember Avho were fortnnate enough to come within 
the circle of her happy influence. 

" When Mr. Fillmore entered the White House, he 
found it entirely destitute of books. Mrs. Fillmore 
was in tlie habit of spending her leisure hours in read- 
ing, I might almost say in studying. She was accus- 
tomed to be surrounded with books of reference, maps, 
and all the other acquirements of a well-furnished li- 
brary, and she found it difficult to content herself in a 
house devoid of such attractions. To meet this want, 
Mr. Fillmore asked of Congress and received an ap- 
propriation, and selected a library, devoting to that 
purpose a large and pleasant room in the second story 
of the house. Here Mrs. Fillmore surrounded herself 
Avith her own little home comforts, here her dau<2:hter 
had her own piano, harp, and guitar, and here Mrs. 
Fillmore received the informal visits of the friends she 
loved, and for her the real pleasure and enjoyments of 
the White House were in this I'oom. With straus^ers 
she was dignified, quiet, and rather reserved ; but with 
her friends, she loved to throw aside all restraint and 
enjoy a good laugh and indulge in a little vein of hu- 
mor which lay quietly hidden under the calm exterior. 

" Mrs. Fillmore was proud of her husband's success 
in life, and desirous that no reasonable expectations 
of the public should be disappointed. She never ab- 
sented herself from the public receptions, dinners, or 
levees when it Avas possible to be present; but her 
delicate health frequently rendered them not only irk 



414 ABIGAIL FILLMORE. 

some, but very painful, and she soiuetimes kept lier 
bed all day to ftivor that \^'eak ankle, tliat slie niiglit 
be able to endure tlie fatigue of tlie two Lours she 
would be obliged to stand for the Fridciy evening 
levees. 

" The President iind Mrs. Fillmore received on Tues- 
day mornings, fi'om twelve till two o'clock. The levees 
were on Friday evenings, from eight till ten, and at 
these there was generally a band of music, but no 
dancing. Every Thursday evening there was a large 
dinner party, and frequently another on Saturdays. 
Then there were often smaller dinners in the family 
dining-room, which were more sociable and agreeable, 
as the invitations were usually confined to the personal 
friends of the family. 

" But what Mrs. Fillmore most enjoyed was to sur- 
round herself with a choice selection of congenial 
friends in her own favorite room — the library, where 
she could enjoy the music she so much loved, and the 
conversation of the cultivated society which Washing- 
ton at that time certainly ^afforded. One of these 
evenings I remember with more than ordinary pleasure. 
Mr. Webster was there, and Mr. Corwin, and Mrs. A. 
H. H. Stuart, of Virginia, Judge Hall and his wife, 
and possibly some other members of the Cabinet ; Mr. 
and Mrs. Brooks, of New York, Miss Derby, of Bos- 
ton, then a guest at the White House, Mr. and Mrs. 
Carroll, and several others of the distinguished resi- 
dents of Washin2:ton. Mrs. Brooks' dauo-hter, then 
quite too young to appear in general society, was there 
by special request of Mrs. Fillmore, who so enjoyed 



RECOLLECTIONS CONTITTUED. 415 

her wonderfully sweet singing, that she relied upon 
lier as one of- the attractions for this evening. Miss 
Fillmore j^layed the piano with much skill and exqui- 
site taste. Indeed, few ladies excelled her in this ac- 
complishment ; and this evening she "was particularly 
successful in her efforts to please. Mrs. Brooks accom- 
panied her upon the harp, ^vhich instrument she played 
with much grace. Altogether, the music, the conver- 
sation, and the company made it an occasion long and 
pleasantly to be remembered. 

"One of the events of Mr. Fillmore's first winter in 
the Executive Mansion was a visit from his father. It 
was .the first time any President had ever entertained 
his father in the White House, and Mrs. Fillmoi-e \yas 
very anxious lest some unlooked-for event might pre- 
vent this anticipated pleasure. But he arrived in 
safety one Monday night. Tuesday was reception 
day. The morning papers announced that the vener- 
able father of the President arrived in town the even- 
ino; before. There was an unusual attendance at the 
reception that day, and it was interesting to watch 
each person, as they cast their eyes about the room, 
unable to light upon any one who answered to their 
idea of the " venerable father of the President," and 
when they were presented to him, as he stood before 
them, tall and perfectly erect, and with hair but little 
whiter than the President's, there was a general expres- 
sion of surprise. They had evidently expected to see 
an infirm old man, bent with years and leaning upon 
a cane, and Mr. Nathaniel Fillmore, at the age of 
eighty, did not answer to that description. Senaitors 



410 AiUCJAll. KILLMOUE. 

and Judges, and Foi'cign Ministers cauio tliat niornin;:^, 
all anxious to pay their respcKits to the President/i? 
father. One gentleman from New York, desii-ous of 
drawing liim into conversation, said to him, ' Mr. Fill- 
jnore, you have been so very successful in l^ringing up 
sons, I wish you would tell me how to raise my little 
boy.' ' Cradle him in a sap-trough, sir,' said the 
old gentleman, always ready with an answer. That 
was an interesting reception, to the President and to 
all, and wluni it was over, Mr. Fillmore the elder said 
to me, ' If I had had the power to mark out the path 
of life for my son, it would never have led to this 
place, Init I cannot help feeling a kind of pride in it 
no^v that he is liere.' 

" The routine of life at the White House which came 
under my observation, did not vary materially from 
week to week. The social habits of both Mr. and 
Mrs. Fillmore were simple and in accordance with those 
of well-bred people everywhere. Without ostentation 
or arrogance, they maintained the honor of the high 
position they were called to occupy, with quiet dignity 
and ease. 

"I was not in Washington the winter Mrs. Fillmore 
died, and therefore know nothing, except from others, 
of lier illness and death, but I know that she died la- 
mented by all who knew her well, and leaving behind 
her many pleasant memories. 

" Her death was a terrible blow to her family, and 
to none more than to her daughter, a young lady whose 
beautiful life and sad death, following so soon upon her 
retuNi to her own home, made such an indelible im- 



LINES ON THE OCCASION OF HER BURIAL. 417 

pi-ession upon her friends, and for whom all her native 
city so justly mourned. 

" The reverence her son had for her memory, proves 
her to have been a devoted mother, and how tenderly 
Mr. Filhnore cherished that memory is shown in the 
sacredness with which he treasures every memento of 
lier. I have heard him say that he has carefully pre- 
served every line she ever wrote him, and that he could 
never destroy even the little notes she sent him on 
business to his office. 

" Such aflPectionate regards from the living speak 
volumes for the dead." 

Lines on the death of Mrs. Millard Fillmore, by 
Miss Matilda Stuart, on the occasion of her burial at 
Forest Lawn, April 2d, 1853. 

Give room, give room, a friend is here, 

She comes to tarry with us now, — 
And though no greeting on her lips, 

No light of gladness on lier brow, 
Yet this is home — that hallowed place 

Where she had fondly longed to rest. 
Here were her earlier, fresher joys. 

Here was the hearth-stone love had blest. 

Though she had moved 'mid stranger scenes, 

To share the honor and the strife 
Of him whose life was dearer far 

Than friend or kindred, home or life, — 
Though she had tasted pleasure's cup, 

While it was sparkling to the fill, 
And seen what few may ever see, 

Hope's brightest dreams grow brighter still; 

Yet there were places in her heart 

Where love could rest and fi-ieii<l:^liip live. 



418 ABIGAIL FILLMORE. 

Tliere was a light witliin her soul 

"Wliich earth could neither take nor give, 

And there were accents for her ear, 
More winning than tiie notes of fame, 

"Where household voices softly breathed 
The sweetness of a mother's name. 

And when she heard the other voice 

That comes but once, yet comes to all, 
Alike to hiin who longs to go, 

And him who dreads to hear the call; 
She looked toward her brigliter home, 

And left life's garments frail and worn, 
As calmly as she laid aside 

The robes of honor she had borne. 

Now she has come to sleep in peace 

Within our grand old forest shades. 
And fresher than the spring-time leaves 

Are those sweet memories that have come 
To steal the bitter tear away, 

And bid us look, as she had done, 
Beyond the pomp of Time's brief day. 

Around her loved and honored grave 

The severed " household band " may come, 
And seem to hear tliose blessed tones 

That made the music of their home. 
The faded form, the silent shroud. 

These, these were all they gave the tomb; 
8he watches o'er them, while she wears 

The freshness of immortal bloom. 

Note. — President Fillmore died at his residence in Buffalo, March 8, 

1874. 



XVIII. 

MARY ABIGAIL FILLMORE. 

The only daugliter of President Fillmore was, dur- 
ing her father's administration, in consequence of her 
mother's ill-health, the Lady of the White; House, and 
as such deserves more mention than the limits of this 
sketch will allow. She was remarkable for her mental 
and intensely affectional nature, and discovered during 
her brief life only those traits which served to render 
her a source of interest and admiration. As a child, 
she was precocious; latterly in life,' her physical health 
was so entirely good that it overcame every tendency 
of brain ascendency. 

She was well fitted, by education and a long resi- 
dence in Washington, to adorn the high station she 
was destined to fill, and acquitted herself there, as in 
every other position, with great dignity and self-j)o»- 
session. 

Her talents were varied, nor was slie a dull scholar 
at any thing she attempted. With, the French, Ger- 
man, and Spanish languages, she was thoroughly con- 
versant, so thorough, indeed, was her mastery of the 
former that a French professor declared her accent 
equal to that of his own countrymen. 

Her taste for sculpture was fostered by association 
with a loved schoolmate, the since renowned Harriet 
Hosmer. 

Had her life been spared, she would have become 



420 MAEY ABIGAIL FILLMORE. 

famous througli the exercise of some, one of the many 
talents given her, but in less than a year after her 
mother's death she, too, passed away. Her father and 
brother were left alone for a few days, that she might 
go and see her aged grandparents. From this journey 
she did not return. A message in the night-time 
roused her parent from his slumber to hasten to her, 
and though no time was lost, it was too late. She was 
Hearing the golden gates of the spirit-land, when those 
two of a once happy band reached her bedside, 

So full of life and health had she been but a few 
short days before, and so entirely unconscious of any ill- 
ness of body, that she anticipated a visit of great pleas- 
ure ; after her death, a memorandum of house-work to 
be performed while she was absent, was found in her 
basket, expecting to be gone but a few dSys. 

The obituary notices are so complete that I am con- 
strained to quote them in lieu of my own imperfect 
material, believing they discover a more thorough ac- 
quaintance with the subject than I can gather through 
other sources. 

"The character of Miss Mary Abigail Fillmore, 
daughter of ex-President Fillmore, whose sudden death 
was announced yesterday, deserves a more extended 
notice. Though young — being but twenty-two years 
of age on the 27th day of March last — she was widely 
known. 

" Being a native of the city of Buffalo, most of her 
life had l)een spent here, where she had a numerous 
circle of sincere and devoted friends. From her early 
childhood she evinced great talent and industry, com- 



HER SCHOOL LIFE. 421 

bined with judgment and discretion, and softened hy 
a cheerful and affectionate disposition, which made her 
with all a safe and welcome companion. 

" As an only and much beloved daughter, her parents 
were resolved to give her an excellent, practical educa- 
tion. As they were unwilling to spare her from the 
little family circle, she received much of her primaiy 
education at our excellent public schools, and the 
higher branches, with the modern languages, music, 
drawing, and painting, were taught her by private 
tutors. That she might learn, away fi'om home, some- 
thing of the world, without imbibing its vices, and be 
taught self-reliance under judicious restraints, she was 
sent for a single year to the celebrated select f^miily 
school of Mrs. Sedgwick, in Lenox, Massachusetts. 
She left that school, feeling the necessity of an educa- 
tion, not merely of grace and oi-nament, but which 
should, in case of a reverse of fortune place her beyond 
that degrading and painful feeling of dependence, which 
so often renders the life of a female in this country one 
of wretchedness and misery. She therefore expressed 
a desire to attend the State Normal School and qualify 
herself to be a teacher. This she could not do without 
assuming an obligation to teach. To this requirement 
ehe readily submitted and entered the school. 

" Graduating at the end of six months with the high- 
est honors, she was then employed as a teacher in the 
higher department of one of the public schools of 
Buffalo, for three months, where she exhibited an apti- 
tude and capacity for teaching that gave entire satisfac- 
tion. But the death of General Taylor and the conse- 



422 MARY ABIGAIL FILLMORE. 

quent elev\itioii of liei' father to the Presidency, com- 
pelled his family to relinquish their residence here and 
remove to Washington. This introduced her into a 
new sphere of action, but she moved in it with the 
same apparent ease and grace that she would have 
done had she l)een bi-ed in the midst of the society of 
the Federal city. At the close of her father's official 
term, she was destined to suffer a heart-rending be- 
reavement in the death of her excellent and devoted 
mother. She returned with her father and brother to 
their desolate home in this city, and by her entire de- 
votion to the duties thus suddenly devolv^ed upon her, 
she relieved her fiither from all household cares, and 
exhibited those high domestic and social qualities which 
gave a grace and charm, as well as system and regu- 
larity, to the home over which she presided. She 
ao;ain called around her the friends of her childhood 
and early youth, for no change of fortune had in the 
least impaired her early attachments — attachments 
which she continued to cherish with unabated ardor and 
devotion. The home of her bereaved father had once 
more become cheerful and happy, for her whole mind 
and heart were given to promote his happiness and that 
of her only brother, and they repaid her devotion with 
the kindest and most grateful affection. 

" She had some weeks since promised a visit to her 
grandfather, at Aurora, about seventeen miles from 
this city. She went from here in the afternoon of 
Tuesday last, in good spirits and apparent good health, 
and she reached Aurora in the evening. She appeared 
well and cheerful on her arrival, and after conversing 



HEK DEATH FKOM CHOLEEA. 423 

with her grandparents, she retired to rest about nine 
o'clock. 

" She was soon after attacked with what proved to 
be the cholera ; but unwilling to disturb the family, 
she called no one until after 12, when a physician was 
immediately sent for, but alas ! too late. A messonger 
was dispatched for her father and brother, but they 
only arrived to see her breathe her last, unconscious 
of their presence. She died about 11 o'clock on Wed- 
nesday morning. The effects of this crushing shock 
upon her fond and devoted father and her affectionate 
brother may perhaps be imagined, but cannot be de- 
scribed. 

" Her remains were immediately removed to Buffalo 
and interred yesterday in the Forest Lawn Cemetery, 
by the side of her mother. She was followed to her 
last resting-place by a numerous concourse of sorrowing 
frien'is. 

." In the absence of the Rev. Dr. Hosmer, her pastor, 
the Rev. Dr. Shelton officiated in the funeral services.'' 

THE LATE MISS FILLMORE. 

From tTie Buffalo Commercial Advertiser^ of July 28<A, 1854. 

" We yesterday announced in the usual terms, the 
death of Mary A. Fillmore. The sad event seems to 
demand some expression of our esteem for her char- 
acter, and of our grief at the heavy loss. We would 
not, indeed, obtrude our consolations upon those hearts, 
broken by so sudden a calamity, whose sorrows human 
sympathy can only pity in reverent silence, nor do we 



42 I MARY ABIGAIL FILLMORE. 

expect either to sootlie or express the feelings of tlial 
intimate circle of fiiends, which her many attractions 
liad drawn around her. But the contemplation of her 
virtues is a relief to friendship, and we shall perform a 
most useful duty, if, by a slight sketch of her charac- 
ter, sincei'ely and simply drawn, others shall be inspired 
to the pursuit of similar excellence. Miss Fillmore's 
character was written upon her face. It was not beau- 
tiful, yet it was so full of vivacity of intellect, of cor* 
diality, and of goodness, that it attracted more than 
any beauty, and as it rises before us now, its expression 
only suggests the simple thought, 

*' How good, liow kind ! And she is gone." 

In that character were mingled, in just proportion, al- 
most masculine judgment and the most feminine ten- 
derness. Its leading feature was excellent common- 
sense, united with great vivacity of temperament, gen- 
uine sensibility, and real intellectual force. Witli a 
keen sense of the ridiculous, overflowing with wit and 
humor, all her views of life were nevertheless grave 
and serious, and she saw clearly beneath its forms and 
shows in what consists its real happiness, and devoted 
herself to the performance of its duties, with all the 
energies of a powerful will, and the fidelity of the 
strictest conscientiousness. This fidelity to her own 
sense of duty had led her most carefully to cultivate 
all of her talents ; and it is no exaggeration to say that 
she was among the most accomplished young women 
we have ever seen among us. 

" She was, for her years, uncommonly familiar with 



OBITUAia- NOTICE. 425 

English literature ; spoke the French language with 
ease and elegance, was well versed in Italian, and had 
lately made great |)rogress in her German studies. 
She had much taste in drawing, but had mostly aban- 
doned that accomplishment for music ; because, as slie 
said, the latter gave greater pleasure to her friends, 
and she was a skilful performer both upon the piano 
and the harp. Shortly i)efore her death, she had ])e- 
gun to p;iy some attention to scul])ture, and had got 
her materials together for self-instruction in this high- 
est ])i-anch of art. It afK>rds an instructive lesson upon 
tlie use of time to know, that she had perfected her- 
self in all these stiulicis and accomplishments since her 
fatlier's accession to the Presidency, and in the leisure 
moments of a life almost devoted to society. In 
Washington, the etiquette of the phice and her moth- 
er's feeble liealth combined to devolve upon her, al- 
most unaided, the entire performance of the social 
duties incident to her father's station. She was but a 
young girl fresh from school; but all admired the 
self-possession, the tact, and the kindness with which 
she filled the position allotted to her; and how, young 
and retired as she was, society in her presence 1) 'caine 
something more genuine and hearty, as if ashamed of 
its false mockeries in the light of her sagacious mind 
and honest heart. 

"She was eminently social, and latterly her conver- 
sational powers were of the first order. She had read 
much; her advantages had been great, and she had 
reaped their entire fruit. She was a keen but kind ob- 
server of character, had been familiar with men and 



42(5 'MARY ABIGAIL FILLMORE, 

women of very various ranks and ilescriptions, and she 
would ]iaint to tlie life tlie very inteiesting events 
wliich ^Le had witnessed, and the character of the 
many distinguished persons with whom her fortune 
had made her acquainted. Full of information and of 
spirits, more anxious always to listen than to talk, yet 
never at a loss, even with the dullest, for something 
pleasant and entertaining to say, with a countenance 
Learning wit'i honesty and intellect, and with a sweet 
cordiality of manners which invited at once confidence, 
affection, and respect. No wonder that wherever she 
went she became the centre of a circle of friends who 
loved her most tenderly, and at the same time looked 
up to her as one of a stronger mind and heart, as a 
guide and confidante. 

" She was a genuine tender-hearted woman. Obser- 
vant of all the forms of elegant life, yet with the most 
utter contempt for its mere fashions ; kind and atten- 
tive to all, yet without one point of sympathy with 
merely worldly peoj)le, she loved her friends with all 
the afiection of a strong and ardent nature. She never 
saw or read of a kind or noble deed that her eyes did 
not fill with tears. 

" She clung to her old friends without regard to 
their position in life, and her time and talents seemed 
devoted to their happiness ; she was thinking constant- 
ly of some little surprise, some gift, some journey 
some pleasure, by which she could contribute to the 
enjoyment of others. ' Blessing she was, God made 
her so ;' and with her death, with many of her friends 
is dried up forever the richest fountain of their happi 
ness. 



CONCLUSION OF OBITUARY. 427 

" She was reserved in the expression of her religious 
views. As is natural with youthful and independent 
minds, she had little comparative respect for creeds 
and forms, perhaps less than she would have mani- 
fested in maturer years, but her intimate friends knew 
that she was always governed by a sense of religious 
duty, that her relations to her Creator and her Savior 
were the subject of her constant thought, and that she 
trusted for her future happiness to the kind mercies of 
a benevolent Father, to the conscientious improvement 
of all her talents, to a life devoted to deeds of kind- 
ness, and to a lieart as pure and unspotted as a child's. 
At home — ah ! that house, all ' emptied of delight,' 
over whicli she presided with so much dignity and 
kindness, that forsaken parlor where all the happi- 
ness that social life can give was wont to be so freely 
and hospitably enjoyed ; the weeping servants — those 
bleeding and broken hearts — let these tell what she 
was at home ! 

" But she is gone ! and young though she was, she 
has accomplished much. She has done much to lay 
the foundation in our midst of a mode of social life 
more kind, genuine, and cultivated than most of what 
is called society ; and she has left behind her the exam- 
ple of her life, which, though most private and retired, 
will always be a blessing to her friends, and through 
them, we trust, to a wider circle for many coming years. 

"Farewell! 

"Forgive our tears for one removed, 
Thy creature whom we found so fair, 
We trust she lives in Tliee, and there 
Wo find her worlhier to be loved." 



XIX. 

JANE APPLETON PIERCE. 

There are two classes of ladies, of whom tlie bio- 
grapher is compelled to write, and both are alike 
interesting. One includes those whose lives have been 
passed in the sunshine of prosperity and allurements 
of fashionable society, who have been widely known, 
and who have mingled with the leading characters of 
this country. The lives of such women include innuni* 
erable incidents of public and private interest and are, 
in fact, necessary to a perfect history of their time. 
Like the mosaic settings of a piece of century work, or 
a gallery of portraits of famous personages, which is 
complete only as it is a reflex of the lives of all who 
are il his tr ions. 

The other class is composed of those of whom the 
world knows little ; whose perfect seclusion even in a 
public position has given but little evidence of their 
abilities, and the world, with its eager curiosity, has 
been but imperfectly apprised of their merits. Such 
natures, howsoever cultivated and developed, receive 
but a small portion of that admiration awarded to the 
first-mentioned class. Their lives are only known to 
the inmates of their home, and thou^'h cherished there 
as a beautiful harmony, and their memory as a holy, 
sealed book, the inquirer after facts and incidents is 
dismayed with the small amount of material to be 
gathered from such an existence. Such an one waa 



HER EARLY ASSOCIATIONS. 429 

Mrs. Pierce ; and with feelings of deep regret am I 
compelled to acknowledge the meagre particulars ob- 
tained of her life, for the little learned is sufficient 
incentive to desire a more thorough acquaintance with 
the history of one so pure and elevated. Of the minute 
details of her life, I am entirely ignorant, of partial 
f^icts, but imperfectly informed. 

Jane Means Appleton was born at Hampton, New 
Hampshire, March 12th, 1806. She was but one year 
of age when her father, Kev. Jesse Appleton, D.D., 
assumed the presidency of Bowdoin College. Reared 
in an atmosphere of cultivation and refined Christian 
influences, the delicate child grew in years, unfolding 
rare mental qualifications, but fragile and drooping in 
health, developing year by year the most exquisite 
nervous organization. Naturally inclined to pensive 
melancholy — the result, partly, of her physical condi- 
tion, she was from her childhood the victim of intense 
sensibilities and suftering, and was during her life the 
unfortunate possessor of an organism, whose every 
vibration was wonderfully acute and sensitive. The 
world of suftering locked up in the hearts of such 
persons it is impossible to estimate ; but happier by 
far is the day of their deaths than the years of their 
lives. Blended with a naturally strong mind, Miss 
Appleton possessed a quick appreciation of the beauti- 
ful, which in the later years of her life was of priceless 
value to her own heart. Thrown by her marriage into 
the political arena, and much in the society of public 
men of note, she yet soared to a higher theme, and 
when not incompatible with politeness, discovered to 



430 .lANK AIM'LKTON TlKliOK. 

her company tlie luitiiral olcvation of lior iiatiim 
Politics, n thome most generally nninterestini^- to \vo« 
mnn, was peculiarly so to lier, and it was in Iht 
presence impossihle to sustain a conversation on the 
suhject. [n 1834, at the ai^'c of twt'nty-eii^'ht, she was 
married to lion. Franklin Pierce, then of llillshoi'ough, 
and a member of the lower house of Congress. The 
match was a pleasing union of kindred natures, and 
was a source of deep and lasting happiness. Tlio 
wealth and tendt^rness of Mr. Pierce's nature, appr(H'i- 
ated to its fnlhvst extent by her, had its reilex in the 
urbanity and courteonsness with winch his conduct 
was ever characterized toward others. He is spoken 
of in a recent publication as the nu>st popular man, 
personally, in the District of C(.>lnmbia, who ever 
occupied the position he tilled. 

To a person organized as was Mrs. Pierce, public 
observation was extremely painful, and she shrank 
from it always, preferi-ing the (]uiet of her New Eng- 
land home to the glare and glitter of fashionable life 
in Washington. "How well she tilled her station as 
wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend, those only 
can tell who knew hei* in these private relations. Tn 
this quiet sphere she I'ouud her joy, and here her 
gentle but })owerful inllucnce wfxs deeply and constant- 
ly Celt, through wise counsels anil delicate suggestions, 
the purest, fniest tastes anil a devoted lite." 

'' She was not only ministered to, but ever minister- 
ing,'' and there is so nmch of the spiritual in her life 
tiiat iVoni Uulwer we gather a n^tVain most applica- 
ble to hei'. "The cast of Ium' hcautv was so dream 



i)i;Arii oi'' iiK.ii si'X'oisrn son, 431 

like jiiid y('t. so rMHi^iiii;- ; her tein])or was so littlft 
mlni^li'd \vitl> I lie eoimnon characteristics of women ; 
it had so litlh' of caprice, so litMt> of vanity, so uttci' 
:in absence of .-vll je;iK)nsy and all ;ini;-er ; it was so made 
n|> o\' tenderness and devotion, and yet so imno-iiiative 
and fairy-like in its fondness, that it was dilUcnlt to 
l)t>ar onI\- the s(Mitiments of eartli for one wln^ had so 
Jittlo of earth's clay/' 

Tn 18:^8, Mr. Pierce removed from Hillsborough 
to Concortl, where ho lias since continned to reside. 
lA)nr years later, he resigned his seat in the Senate to 
practice^ law, and thereby make provisions for the 
futui'i*. A btM'cavement, the second of its kind, oc- 
curred two years later in the loss of his second sou, 
r'i-;vnk Robert. 

When President Polk tendered Mr. Pierce the po- 
sition of Attorney-(u^neral, it was the illness of his 
wife which divw from him his reply declining it. 
I le says : 

" Although the early years oi' my manhood were 
(h* voted to public life, it wjis never really suited to my 
taste, T longcnl, as I am sure you must often have 
(U>ne, tor the cpiiet and independence that belong only 
to the private citizen, and now, at forty, I feel that de- 
sire stronger than t^ver. 

'' Ct>ming so unexpectedly as this (^tVer does, it would 
be tliiUcult, if not impossible, to arrange the business 
ot' an extensive practice, between this auvl the lirst of 
November, in a manner at all satisfactory to myself, 
or to tliosi^ who have committed their interests to my 
care, and who rely on my , services. Besides, you know 



4o2 JANE APPL1:T0N J'IKKCE. 

that Mrs. Pierce's health, while at Washington, was 
very delicate. It is, I fear, even more so now ; and the 
res})onsibi]ities \vhich the proposed change wonld neces- 
sarily impose upon hei', oni-ht, probably, in themselves 
to constitute an insurmountable objection to leaving 
our quiet home for a public station at Washington.'" 

Mrs. Pierce was not called upon to leave her pleas- 
ant home, and for another year she passed her time in 
tranquil happiness, little dreaming that her conntry 
would so soon demand the sacrifice of him who thought 
not of public honors when she was concerned. 

The declaration of war with Mexico found him 
ready and willing to serve tlie best interests of his 
•State and Government, by enlisting as a private soldier 
in a company raised in Concord. He was subsequently 
appointed Colonel, and finally Brigadier-General, which 
position he filled with honor and distinction. He 
sailed fi'oni Newport, the 2Tth of May, 18-47, and re- 
mained in Mexico nine months, during which time Mrs. 
Pierce and her son, continued at their home in Concord. 
Her health during his absence was not more frail 
than usual, but anxiety and sus])ense, watching yet 
fearing to hear of the absent one, kept her from re- 
gaining or improving her impaired constitution, and of 
renewing the slender chord by which her life was 
held. 

Mrs. Pierce attained, through sorrow, the perfection 
of many of her most ennobling ti'aits, and in the 
words of her obituary, "her Christian character was 
formed and developed undei- the constant presence of 
infirmities, with frequent heavy trials." 



VIOLENT DEATH OF HER LAST SUEVlVINa SON. 433 

The mother of three chiklren, none survived her, 
and the death of the last, under circumstances so pe- 
culiar, shattered the small remnant of remaining health, 
and left her mother's heart forever desolate. On the 
5th of January, previous to the inauguration of Mr. 
Pierce as President, an accident occurred on tlie Boston 
& Mtiine Railroad, which resulted in a great calamity ; 
among the passengers were the President elect, his 
wife, and only son, a bright boy of thirteen years. 
The family were on their I'eturn to Concord from Bos- 
ton, and it was between Andover and Lawrenoe that 
the axle of one of the passenger-cars broke, and the cars 
were precipitated down a steep embankment. Mr. 
Pierce, sitting beside his wife, felt the unsteady move- 
ments of the train and instantly divined the cause. 
Across the seat from them sat their son, who but a mo- 
ment ago was amusing them with his conversation. 
A crash, a bounding motion as the cars were thrown 
over and over down the hill, and men began to recover 
from their fright and assist in aiding those injured in 
the fearful accident. Mr. Pierce, though much bruised, 
succeeded in extricating his wife from the ruins, and 
bearing her to a place of safety, returned to hunt his 
bo}'. 

He was soon found ; his young head crushed and 
confined under a beam, his little body still in death. 
Even now it is a subject too painful to dwell upon. 
What must have been the feelings of those grief-stricken 
parents, in a moment bereft of their all ! 

The remains were conveyed to Andover until ar* 
rangements could be made for their removal to Con 
cord. 



434 JANE APPLETON PIERCE. 

Under such a bereavement, in feeble health and 
exhausted vitality, came Mrs. Pierce to the White 
House. « 

Through the season, before her great trial was sent 
upon her, she had been nerving herself for the unde- 
sired duties and responsibilities of her public station 
at Washington ; and with the burden of that crushing 
soiTow she went forward, with the noblest self-sacrifice, 
to do what was to be done, as well as to bear what 
was to be borne. That she performed her task nobly 
and sustained the dignity of her husband, the folloAving 
letter will prove. 



" My Dear Madam : I learn that Prof Aiken's 
notice of Mrs. Pierce, that appeared in the Observer, 
has been sent to you, and I pi'esume it does not con- 
tain information on all the points you desired to reach 
particularly. Hence this note. The idea has some- 
how gone out that Mrs. Pierce did not participate in 
the receptions and entertainments at the White House. 
Mr. Gobright, in his book recently published, ' Recol- 
lections of Men and Things at Washington,' makes 
the statement that Mrs. Pierce did not, until the close 
of the administration of President Pierce, appear at 
the receptions. This is an inexcusable blunder, for 
Mr. Gobright was here on the spot, and should have 
known better. The fact is, Mrs. Pierce seldom omitted 
attendance upon the public receptions of the Presi- 
dent. She was punctually present also at her own 
Friday receptions, although at times suffering greatly. 



HOSTESS OF THE EXECUTIVE MANSIOIsr, 435 

Often in tlie evening of the President's levee, slie 
would allow herself to be conducted into the Blue 
Room, and there remain all the evening: receivino:, with 
that quiet ease and dignity that characterized her 
always : a duty which few ladies, indeed, would have 
had the courage to perform in her then delicate state 
of health. She presided, too, with the President at 
the State dinners, as well as those of a more social 
character, anvd certainly never before or since, was more 
hospitality dispensed by any occupant of the White 
House, The most agreeable memories of Mrs. Pierce 
at the Presidential Mansion, and such only, are re- 
tained and cherished in this city. The days of that 
period when a quiet and dignified but heai'ty hospi- 
tality signalized the Executive Mansion, and the pro- 
tection of the Constitution, which diffused a sense of 
all-pervading security, were indeed the bright days of 
the Republic. This is the view of our own people, 
and who are better judges than they who have seen 
so many Administrations here ? 

" Every one knew and respected the enfeebled con- 
dition of Mrs. Pierce's health, and felt that the sad 
event which happened only a short time before she 
came to Washington, on that fatal railroad train, might 
have shattered a much hardier constitution than was 
.hers, and at least have unfitted her, physically as well 
as mentally, to discharge the duties of the Lady of the 
White House. Yet she suppressed her inward grief 
before the public eye, and overcame her debility in 
deference to what she believed to be her dut} toward 
he-r distinguished husband's exalted position. Those 



430 JANE APPLETON PIEPvCE. 

wlio knew Mrs. Pierce well at this time eulogized her 
heroism. 

" No lady of the White House left more warm 
friends in Washington among our best people, and sho 
had not a single enemy. What I have written above, 
you are at liberty, madam, to use (if you deem it 
worthy) in your forthcoming work. It has the merit 
at least of being the testimony of ' one who knows.' 
I give it in order that the grievously wi^ong state- 
ments in Mr. Gobright's work, concerning Mrs. Pierce, 
may be corrected, and the error exposed before it 
passes into history. 

" I am, my dear madam, with the highest considera- 
tion, your most obedient servant, 

"J. D. Hoover. 

" It is no disparagement to others who have occu- 
pied her station at the White House, to claim for her 
an unsurpassed dignity and grace, delicacy and purity, 
in all that pertains to public life. There was a home, 
a Christian home, quietly and constantly maintained, 
and very many hearts rejoiced in its blessings." 

Mrs. Pierce was always extremely delicate, and 
was reduced to a mere shadow after the loss of her 
son. I have heard a gentleman say, who was a mem- 
ber of Mr. Pierce's family at the time, that " it was 
with the utmost diificulty she could endure the fatigue 
of standing during a reception, or sitting the tedious 
hours of a dinner party," and her courage must have 
been all-powerful to have sustained her under the 
most uncongenial of all things to an invalid — the 



TOUR TO ISLAND OF MADEIRA. 437 

presence of comparative, and in many cases entire, 
strangers. Her pious scruples regarding the keeping 
of the Sabbatli were a marked attribute of lier life. 
Each Sunday morning of her four years' stay in the 
White House, she would request, in her gentle, con- 
ciliatory way, all the attaches of the Mansion to go 
to church, and on their return, would make pleasant in- 
quiries of what they had heard, &c. " Many a time," 
remarked Mr. Webster, the Private Secretary, " have 
I gone from respect to her, when, if left to my own 
choice, I should have remained in the house." In her 
unobtrusive way, ever thoughtful of the happiness of 
those about lier, she diverted their minds to the ele- 
vated and sjjiritual, and sought, in her own life, to be 
a guide for the young with whom she was thrown. 
How rare are these exquisite organizations, and how 
little do we know of them, even though they have 
lived in our midst, and formed a part of us ! Awhile 
they linger here to learn the way to brighter spheres, 
and when they vanish, naught is left but a memory 
fragrant with the rich perfume of a beautiful, unself 
ish life. 

In the autumn of 1857, Mrs. Pierce, accompanied by 
her husband, left the United States on the steamer 
" Powhatan " for the island of Madeira, and passed six 
months in that delightful place. The following eigh- 
teen months were spent in Portugal, Spain, France, 
Switzerland, Italy, Germany, and England. Of her 
appreciation of this lengthy sojourn in the most his- 
toric and renowned countries of the old world, we have 
no evidence save in the supposition, how one of her 



438 JANE ArrLETON PIERCE. 

line nervous nature must liave enjoyed tlie bygone 
splendors of Spain, tlie ever-ranging panorama of lux- 
urious Paris, and the snow-capped mountains of Italy 
and Switzerland, of tlie Alps, of Mont Blanc, and the 
tamer scenery of German towns and cities ! Would 
that it were possible to present even one of her letters 
to the American public who have ever evinced their 
regard and admiration for Mrs. Pierce, through the sym- 
pathy extended to her now desolate husband. But 
that repugnance to publicity, so characteristic in life, 
is respected now by the few of her family who have 
survived her, and the painful recollections of what she 
suffered, are as yet too fresh in the minds of her friends 
to desire them to be recalled. 

From a member of her family, who has very kindly 
replied to several inquires, I have gained all the infor- 
mation contained in this brief sketch. He will pardon 
me, if I quote from his last letter these few lines. 

" If your attention has been called to the obituary 
notice of Mrs. Pierce, published in the Boston Record- 
er, of January 8th, 1864, and reproduced in the New 
York Observer within two or three weeks of that date, 
you may have been impressed with the sentences, ' She 
shrank with extreme sensitiveness from public obser- 
vation.' I cannot help being influenced by that very 
controlling trait of her character, and this, I am sure, is 
true of all her relatives. Hence, and indeed, in consult- 
ing our own tastes, we were thoroughly satisfied with 
the sketch from the hand of one who knew her inti- 
mately, from his early manhood, and loved her welL 

"Mrs. Pierce's life, as far as she could make it so, was 



HER DEATH AT ANDOVER. 430 

one of retirement, Slie very rarely participated in gay 

amusements, and never enjoyed what is sometimes 

called fashionable society. Her natural endowments 

were of a liigli order, recognized by all persons with 

whom she ^v'as, to any considerable extent, associated. 

She inherited a judgment singularly clear and correct, 

and a taste almost unerring. She was carefully and 

thoroughly educated, and moved all her life, prior to 

her marriage, very quietly in a circle of relatives and 

intimate friends of rare culture and refinement." 
« * * * -X- * 

On the 2d of December, 1863, at Andover, Massa- 
chusetts, she died. Many of her kindred and all her 
children had gone before her, and she was ready to join 
them. But she was patient, and had " learned to wait, 
with growing confidence and love for the revealing of 
her Heavenly Father's will." Among her last words 
was the familiar line, 

" Other refuge liave I none," 

repeated with all the emphasis of which she was then 
capable. Now she has reached that refuge. 

On the. 5th of December, she was buried by the 
side of her children in the cemetery at Concord, New 
Hampshire, 

" Her husband moves on in life's journey alone. 
What this means to him, will be in a measure under- 
stood by those who know the wealth and tenderness 
of his affections, the peerless devotion with which he 
has lived, especially since his release from public du 



4-10 JANE ArPLETON" PIEROE. 

ties, and lier wortliiiiess to be the object of such n \ovq 
aud service." '-'' 

Those who knew her will be ghui, glad just in jn-o- 
portion to the intimacy of tlieir acquaintance with her, 
to be reminded of the qualities in whicli they found so 
much delio'ht. To otliers who have onlv known of 
her, and that mainly in connection with lier sorrows, 
it will be just to present very briefly other aspects of 
her life. Her fine natural endowments "were developed 
by a careful and generous culture, not merely under 
the forms of education, but tlu-ough tlie agency 6f all 
the examples and influences of her early home and tlie 
circle of related families. No one knew better how to 
make tributary all the experience of life. All her in- 
stincts and choices drew her toward, and attracted to- 
ward her, whatever was refining and elevating. Her 
tastes were of exceeding delicacy and purity. Her eye 
apju-eciated, in a remarkable degrees, whatever was beau- 
tiful in nature and art. During the last )^ears of her 
invalid lite, she found" not merely physical relief, but 
the deepest gratification in foreign travel, and in resi- 
dence near her own New England mountains and sea- 
shore. This contact with nature's freshness and variety 
and beauty often renewed lierstrength when the minis- 
tries of human affection and skill w^ere alike powerless. 

The folloAving touching tribute was written by a 
friend whose affection for Mrs. Pierce kno^vs no change. 
He sent it carefully w^ra])ped in many covers to pro- 
tect it. Oft used and much worn as it is, he prizes the 
pa])er, from tlu^ associations clustered with its appear- 

* Mr. Pierce diwl Uic Sth of October, 18G9. 



A TUTIUITK TO llEU ]\lEMOKY. 441 

ance, and tlie circumstauces imder wliicli it was written 
Its beauty is its truth and simplicity. 

" The distinctions of eai'th fade away in the pres- 
ence of death ; l)ut the memory of de])arted excellence 
comes forth fresh and perennial from the very j^jortals 
of the grave. 

"To-day this paper records the lamented decease of 
one who has filled the highest station in the land with 
dignity and propriety unsurpassed, and who has 
adorned private life with every estimable quality 
which could become a true Christian gentlewoman. 

" The many who have esteemed and respected her 
throughout life will deeply deplore her loss, and will 
sincerely sympathize with him who has been thus 
called to submit to one of the severest of human afflic- 
tions. 

"His beloved companion has passed through great 
sufferings, bearing always Avith him the memory of a 
creat irrief : and she has doid)tless ejone to that rest 
which we know * remaineth foi- the people of God.' " 



XX. 

HARRIET LANE. 

The name of Harriet Lane is so nearly associated 
with the latest and most illustrious years of her uncle, 
James Buchanan, that it is quite impossible to write a life 
of the one, in which the other shall not fill some space. 
Of all his kindred she was the closest to him. Given 
to his care when she was scarcely past infancy, she took 
the place of a child in his lonely heart, and when she 
reached womanhood, she repaid his affection by minis- 
tering, with rare tact and grace, abroad and at home, 
in public life and in private, over a household which 
would otherwise have been the cheerless abode of an 
old bachelor. The sketch of her history which we 
propose to give will, therefore, necessarily involve 
many recollections of the great ex-President, dead so 
recently that we can hardly realize that he is gone. 

HaiTiet Lane is of Pennsylvania blood, of English 
ancestry, on the side of her father, and Scotch-Irish 
on that of her mother. Her grandfather, James Bu- 
chanan, emigrated to America from the north of 
L-eland, in the year 1783, and settled near Mercers- 
bui-g, in Franklin County, Pennsylvania. In the year 
1788, lie married Elizabeth Speer, the daughter of a 
substantial farmer, a woman of strong intellect and 
deep piety. The eldest child of this marriage was 
James, the late ex-President. He spoke uniformly 




'^Igr-avBd bjr J.CBattre 



./^<=^-^-^^^^ 0^ 



^^'^^:^^ /^j 



-^r^* 



^^f^^^::^ 



EAKLIEE YEAES. 443 

witli tlie deepest reverence of l)ot]i his father aud 
inothei*, and took delight in ascribing to the teachings 
of that good woman, all the success that he had won in 
this world. 

Jane Buchanan, the next child after James, his 
})laymate in youth, his favorite sister through life, 
known as tke most sprightly and agreeable member of 
a family all gifted, was married, in the year 1813, to 
Elliot T. Lane, a merchant largely engaged in the lu- 
crative trade at that time carried on between the east 
and the west, by the great highway that passed through 
Franklin County. In this trade, James Buchanan the 
elder had accumulated his fortune, and on the mar- 
riage of his daughter with Mr. Lane, mucli of his busi- 
ness passed into the hands of the latter. 

Mr. Lane was descended from an old and aristo- 
cratic English family, who had settled in Virginia dur- 
ing the Revolution, and he was connected with some of 
the best names of this land. His business talents were 
well known and trusted, and all who enjoyed his ac- 
quaintance, testify to the uncommon amiability of his 
disposition. 

Harriet, the youngest child of Elliot T. Lane and 
Jane Buchanan, spent the first years of her life in the 
picturesque village of Mercersburg, in the midst of a 
society distinguished for its intelligence and refine- 
ment. She inherited the vivacity of her mother, was 
a mischievous child, overflowing with health and good 
humor. Her uncle James, then in the prime of life, 
and already an illustrious man, paid frequent visits to 



44-i HARRIET LANE. 

Lis birtb-pliice, and tlio impression wliioli his august 
presence and charming talk made upon little Harriet, 
was deep and lasting. She conceived an affection and 
reverence for him which knew no abatement till the 
hour of his death. 

Her mother died when she Avas bnt seven yeara 
old, and her father survived but two yeai-s longer. 
She was left well provided with money, and with a 
lai-ge family connection, but at his solicitation, she ac- 
cepted as a home the house of her nncle James, and 
sought his guardianship in preference to that of any 
of her other relatives. 

Although Mr. Buchanan was not particularly fond 
of children, he was attracted toward this frank and 
handsome clxild from her earliest infancy. Her ex- 
uberant spirits, love of mischief, and wild pranks, 
called forth from him daily lectures and severe re- 
bukes, but his acquaintances all knew that he was 
well pleased to have been singled out by the noble 
and affectionate girl as her guide, phik^sopher, and 
friend. No doubt that even at that early age, he i-ec- 
ognized in her a kindred spirit, and his good angel 
whispered to him that the boisterous child, wlio some- 
times disturbed his studies, and mimicked his best 
friends, would one day be to him a fit adviser in diffi- 
culty, a sympathetic companion in sori'ow, the light 
and ornament of his public life, and the comfort, at 
last, of his lonely hearth. 

Mr. Buchanan was reticent in speaking the praises, 
however well deserved, oC his near i-elatives, ])ut lie 



ANECDOTE TOLD OF HER. 445 

has been known, especially of Late years, to dwell with 
a delight he could not conceal, upon the admirable 
qualities displayed by Miss Lane in childhood. Said 
he, "She never told a lie. She had a soul above de- 
ceit or fraud. She was too proud for it.'" 

During the earliest years of Miss Lane's residence 
with her uncle, in Lancaster, she attended a day-school 
there, and, thougli she evinced much more than the 
usual aptitude for stud}', she was chiefly distinguished 
as a fun-loving, trick-playing romp, and a wilful do- 
mestic outlaw. 

There was one anecdote her uncle liked to tell of 
her, as an evidence of her independent spirit and her 
kind heart. When she was about eleven years old, 
she was well grown and, indeed, mature looking for 
her age. Unlike most young ladies at that ambitious 
period of life, she was entirely unconscious of her bud- 
ding charms, never dreaming that men must pause to 
wonder at and admire her, and that her actions were 
no longer unimportant as those of a chihl. One day 
IMr. Buchanan was shocked upon beholding from his 
window Miss Harriet, with flushed cheek and hat 
awr}^, trundling along, in great haste, a wheelbarrow 
full of wood. Upon his rushing out to inquire into 
the cause of such an unseemly and undignifled proceed- 
ing, she answered in some confusion, that she was just 
on her way to old black Aunt Tabitha, with a load of 
wood, because it was so cold. 

In administering the reproof that followed, Mr. 
Buchanan took good care that she should not see the 



•ii<> HARRIET LANE. 

amused and gratified smile witli wliicli be turned away 
from the generous culprit. 

About tills time, her uncle executed a threat which 
he had long held suspended over Harriet. Tins was 
to place her under the tender care of a couple of eld- 
erly maidens of the place — ladies famous for their 
strict sense of propriety and their mean domestic econ- 
omy — just such rule as our high-spirited young lady 
would chafe under. She liad never believed her uncle 
to be in earnest about the matter, and her horror at 
finding herself duly installed in this pious household, 
under the surveillance of these old damsels, must have 
been comical enough to Mr. Buchanan, who was never 
blind to the funny side of any thing. He was in the 
Senate at the time, and she was in the habit of pour- 
ing out her soul to him in childish letters that com- 
plained of early hours, brown sugar in tea, restrictions 
in dress, stiif necks, and cold hearts. The winter 
passed slowly away, only solaced by the regular arri- 
val of fatherly letters from her uncle, or by an occa- 
sional fi-olic out of doors — to say nothing of pockets- 
ful of crackers and rock-candy, with which the appe- 
tite of the young woman was appeased, her simple fare 
being, if not scanty, unsuited to the tastes of one who 
had sat at Mr. Buchanan's table. 

The next autumn, when she was twelve years old, 
she was sent with hei- sister, a lovely girl but a few 
years Harriet's senior, to a school in Charlestown, 
Va. Here they remained three years. Harriet was 
not a student, but she knew her lessons because it was 



AT GEORGETOWN COTSTVENT. 447 

rio troul)le for her to learn them. She was excessively 
fond of music, and made great progress in it. Her 
vacations were spent with Mr. Buchanan ; but the great 
event of those three years was a visit with him to 
Bedford Springs. It was a glorious time, which even 
now the woman of the world looks back upon with 
her own bright smile of pleasui-e. 

She was next sent to the convent at Georgetown — 
a school justly celebrated for the elegant women who 
have been educated there. Miss Lane went over to 
Washington every month, and spent Saturday and 
Sunday with her uncle, then Secretary of State. These 
visits were, of course, delightful. Without seeing any 
gay society, she always met at Mr. Buchanan's house 
such men as few young girls could appreciate, and 
listened to such conversation as would improve the 
taste of any one. 

Miss Lane at once became a great favorite with the 
sisters, who constantly expressed the highest opinion 
of her talents and her principles. 

Before Mr. Buchanan had decided to send her to 
the convent, he had asked, "Do you think you would 
become a Roman Catholic?" She was anxious to go, 
but she answered, " I can't promise ; I don't know 
enough about their faith." " Well," said he, " if you 
are a good Catholic, I will be satisfied." 

She did not change her religious opinions, but her 
intercourse with the good sisters has always made her 
respect the old church, and has taught her sympathy 
and charity for all God's people. 



t4o IIAliPJET LANE. 



Here sue became very pi-oficient in music, an accom- 
plishment whicli, unfortunately for her friends, she liaa 
much neglected, owing to her constant engagements in 
social life and her disinclination for display in her public 
position. The nuns were anxious to have her learn to 
play upon the harp, not only on account of her musical 
taste, but because of her graceful person and exquisite 
hand. For some reason, however, she never took 
lessons upon that beautiful instrument, so well calcu- 
lated to display the charms of a graceful woman. 

Her uncle once asked in a letter what were her 
favorite studies. She answered, " History, astronomy, 
and especially mythology." Mr. Buchanan did not 
forget this avowed preference, and in after-years grati- 
fied his natural disposition to quiz those of whom he 
was fond, by appealing to his niece as authority on 
mythological questions, in the presence of company 
before whom she would have preferred to be silent. 

Miss Lane was exceedingly quick and bright. She 
never applied her whole mind to study except the last 
of the two years she spent at Georgetown. The result 
of that effort was that she won golden opinions and 
graduated with great honor. She left the school, loved 
and regretted by the sisters, with some of whom she 
has been on terms of close friendship ever since. They 
always speak of her with pride, and have followed her 
career with an interest they seldom evince in any thing 
outside their sphere of seclusion and quiet. 

At this time, Miss Lane's proportions were of the 
most perfect womanliness. Tall enough to be com- 



PERSONAL APPEARANCE. i40 

mantling, yet not higli cnongb to attract observation — 
li<?ht enonofh to be c:r.'iceful, ])ut so full as to indicate 
the perfect bealtli with which she was blest. Indeed, 
this appearance of health was the first impression pro- 
duced by Miss Lane upon the beholder. It made one 
feel stronger only to watch her firm, quick step and 
round, elastic form. Her clear, ringing voice spoke 
of life. The truthful, steady light of her eyes inspired 
one with confidence in humanity, and the color that 
came and went in her cheek, set one's own blood to a 
more youthful, joyous ])ound. 

Miss Lane was a blonde, her head and features were 
cast in noble mould, and her form, when at rest, was 
replete with dignified majesty, and, in motion, was in- 
stinct alike with power and grace. Hers was a bright, 
good face upon which none looked with indifference. 
Those deep violet eyes, with the strange dark line 
around them, could glance cold, stern rebuke upon the 
evil doer, and they could kindle, too, and pour young 
scorn upon what was small and mean. Yet of all her 
features, her mouth was the most peculiarly beautiful. 
Although in repose it was so indicative of firmness, it 
was capable of expressing infinite humor and perfect 
sweetness. Her golden hair was arranged with sim- 
iplicity, and in her dress she always avoided superfluous 
ornament. In toilet, speech, and manner she was a 
lady. ^ 

Miss Lane was fond of games, and invariably ex- 
celled at all she ever attempted. Her uncle secretly 
prided himself upon her prowess, and, in her absence, 



450 HARRIET I.AXE. 

frequently spoke of this success of liers ; but lie liked 
to laugh at her for belug able to " distance every body 
else ill athletic sports/' He used to tell about her 
daring some young man to I'un a race with her, and 
then leaving him far behind and out of breath. Yet 
it was known he had, upon this occasion, rebuked her 
for want of that dignity which, in his heart, he gladly 
owned she did not lack. 

At Wheatland, Miss Lane saw much company 
from a distance, her uncle constantly entertaining his 
foreign and political friends. Their conversation and 
her historic reading, directed by Mr. Buchanan, made 
her a most congenial companion foi- him. 

She was a good reader, her voice sweet and pure, 
and her enunciation clear and distinct. She was in 
the hal)it of reading aloud the newspapei's, and after- 
ward discussing with him the news and the political 
and literary subjects of the day. She took great in- 
terest in the grounds, and it was her taste that sug- 
gested many of the improvements made at Wheat- 
land. 

The quiet of her life here was interrupted by gay 
visits to Philadelphia, New York, Pittsburg, Washing- 
ton, and Virginia. Wherever she went, she left hosts 
of friends, and never came home without bringing with 
her scores of masculine hearts. Indeed, their former 
owners often followed them and the young lady, in 
hopes of obtaining her hand in exchange. She re- 
mained, however, "fancy free," until her heart was 
touched by the love-tale of Mr. Johnston, whom she 



HEK STAY VISIT TO EUROPE. 451 

met at Bedford Springs, during the annual visit made 
there ])j herself and Mr. Buchanan. 

Mr. Johnston was a young gentleman of Baltimore, 
fresh from college honors, manly, frank, and kind — 
full of enthusiasm, and as demonstrative as youth and 
southern blood make an earnest man when deeply in 
love. 

Geranium leaves exchanged in those golden days 
of youth — withered surely in the lapse of time, and, 
one would fancy, long since cast aside — are worn by 
Miss Lane and her husband in memory of a dawning 
affection of which neither could have foreseen the end. 

Miss Lane's brothers lived in Lancaster. One of 
them married there. Her sister Mary, who had been 
married to Mr. George W. Baker, also resided in Lan- 
caster, and was much with Harriet until her removal 
to California. It was during her absence, in 1852, that 
Mr. Buchanan went as Minister to Eno:land, takintr 
Miss Harriet Lane with him. 

No more illustrious man than James Buchanan had 
ever been sent to represent his country at the court of 
the greatest empire of the world. His fame as a 
statesman had preceded him. To the public men and 
educated classes of England his name was familial-, for 
he had been one of the most conspicuous figures in the 
United States for the third of the century. No citizen 
of this country had ever held so many great stat.ons 
as he. His life had been crowded with the gravest 
puldic employments. Apart from his reputation as a 
statesman, he ha I won the highest encomiums at the 



452 HARKIET LANB. 

bar. For ten coiisecntivc years be had sat in the 
lower house of Congress. As Minister to Kussia, he 
had negotiated our first commercial treaty with that 
empire. lu the Senate of the United States he had 
stood for years in the foremost rank of those mighty 
men whose statesmanship and eloquence made that 
body, thirty years ago, the most dignified assembly on 
earth. When he resigned his seat as a Senator, it was 
to become Secretary of State, and during that period, 
when he held that position, he refused a seat on the Su- 
preme Bench of the United States, urged upon him 
by Mr. Tyler, and afterward by Mr. Polk. His name 
had, for half his life-time, been associated with the 
Presidency. When he went to England, it was at the 
earnest solicitation of Mr. Pierce, who was unwilling 
to trust the settlement of the great questions then at 
issue between the two countries, to any hands less able 
than his, and it was well believed by many friends 
that, his work abroad completed, he would -return to 
take possession of the Executive Chair. 

In the blaze of this reputation, and led by the pro- 
tecting hand of one so illustrious, did Harriet Lane 
make her entrance into English society. 

And now she became publicly identified with Mr. 
Buchanan. At dinners and upon all occasions, she 
ranked, not as a niece, or even daughter, but as his 
wife. There, was, at first, some question on this point, 
but the Queen, npon whom the blooming beauty had 
made a deep impression, soon decided that, and our 
heioiue was thenceforward one of the foremost ladies 
in the diplomatic corps at St. James- 



AT THE COUitT OF ST. JAMES. 453 

Her first appearance at a Drawing-room was a 
memoi'able occasion, not only to the young republican 
girl herself and her uncle, but to all who witnessed 
her graceful and dignified bearing at the time. Not- 
withstanding her youthful appearance, it could scarcely 
be credited that she, who managed her train so beau- 
tifully, appeared so unconscious of the attention she 
attracted, and diffused her smiles in such sweet and 
courtly manner, had never before been in the presence 
of royalty. 

That night when she and Mr. Buchanan discussed 
the events of the day — as they habitually did before 
retiring — he suddenly turned about, saying, " Well, a 
person would have supposed you were a great beauty, 
to have heard the way you were talked of to-day. I 
was asked if we had many such handsome ladies in 
America, I answered, 'Yes, and many much hand- 
somer. She would scarcely be remarked there for her 
beauty.'" 

Upon every occasion Miss Lane was most gracious- 
ly singled out by the Queen, and it was well known 
that she was not only an unusual favorite with her 
majesty, but that she was regarded with favor and ad- 
miration by all the royal family. She was so imuiedi- 
ately and universally populai', that slie was warmly 
welcomed in every circle, and added much to the social 
reputation Mr. Buchanan's elegant manners won him 
everywhere. At her home slie was modest and dis- 
creet, as well as sprightly and genial, and her country- 
men never visited their great representative in Eiig- 



454 HAREIET LANE. 

land without congratulating themselves upon having 
there also such a specimen of American womanhood. 

The limits of our sketch prevent us from dwelling 
upon particular characters, political, noble and literary, 
with whom Miss Lane constantly came in contact. 
Nor have we time to mention the country houses of 
lord and gentry where Mr. Buchanan and herself were 
gladly received. Suffice it to say that her offei's of mar- 
riage were very numerous, and such as would do honor 
to any lady of any land — men of great name, of high 
position and immense fortune, English and American. 

She always confided these affaires du coeur to her 
uncle, who gave his advice as freely as it was asked. 
But he never attempted to influence her affections, al- 
thouo'h one could not have blamed him for wishinar her 
to remain as she was. She always decided for her 
uncle, and ended the consideration of each proposal 
by trusting to the happiness she had already tried. 

The years that Miss Lane spent in England were 
probably the brightest of her life. She loved England, 
English people, and English habits, and fortunate in- 
deed it was for her that in the days of her eai-ly youth, 
when just entering upon womanhood, she acquired that 
taste for exercise, early hours, wholesome food, and 
healthy living, which make the ladies of Great Britain 
the fairest and most substantial beauties in the world. 

One of the incidents of her stay abroad with her 
uncle, was her visit with him to Ostend, at the time 
of the celebrated conference between the American 
Ministers to England, Frauce, and Spain. From here 



X 



CONTINENTAL TRAVELS. 455 

she travelled with Mr. Mason and others to Brussels^ 
Aix-la-Chapelle, Coblentz, and Frankfort on the Main, 
and thence joined Mr. Buchanan and Mr. Soule at Brus- 
sels, where the business of the Conference was com- 
pleted. 

She accompanied Mr. Mason on his return to Paris, 
and spent two months at his house. It is needless to 
say that these were happy months, for Mr. Mason's 
elegant hospitality, and the agreeable manners, and 
kind hearts of wife and daughters, made his home a 
thronged resort of all Americans who visited the gay 
capital. Miss Lane's recollections of that noble man 
are as warm as those of any of the thousands who were 
familiar witli his virtues, and whose feeling regarding 
him was happily expressed after his death in an obitu- 
ary written by a near friend, who summed up his 
faults and his merits in the title taken from the most 
genial character ever drawn by Bulwer, of " Old gen- 
tleman Waife." 

Among the brilliant circle that nightly assembled 
in the saloons of Mr. Mason, Miss Lane reigned a pre- 
eminent belle. 

We must also particularly refer to the enthusiasm 
excited by Miss Lane upon a memorable occasion in 
England. We mean the day when Mr. Buchanan and 
Mr. Tennyson received the degree of Doctor of Civil 
Laws at the University of Oxford. Her appearance 
was greeted with loud cheers by the students, and 
murmurs of admiration. 

She returned to America, leavinsr Mr. Buchanan in 



456 irARRIET LANE. 

London, waiting for a release from his mission, wliicL 
he had long urged, but which the State Department 
at Washins^ton had failed to a'ive him. 

During this separation, her uncle wrote her long 
letters, overflowing with affyction and regret that he 
had suffered her to leave him. Indeed, she would 
never have consented to absent herself from his side 
for an hour, had she not been expecting a visit at 
Wheatland from her sister, Mrs. Baker, whose svv^eet 
companionship she had missed in all her pleasures and 
triumphs. It was soon after her happy arrival at dear 
old Wheatland, with the welcome of friends still in 
her ears, and amid hurried and loving preparations for 
the reception of this beautiful and only sister, that the 
dreadful tidings of her death on the distant shores of 
the Pacific, smote on the sad heart of Harriet. In the 
agony of her first great grief, brooding over the mem- 
ory of this twin soul, often did she echo in feeling 
those verses of Tennyson : 

" Ah yet, even yet, if this might be, 
I, falling on thy faithful heart, 
Would, breathing through thy lips, impart 
The life that almost dies in me. 

That dies not, but endures with pain, 
And slowly forms the firmer mind ; 
Treasuring the look it caimot find, 

The words that are not lieard again." 

Under these sad circumstances Mr. Buchanan came 
home, and the news of his nomination for the Presi- 
dency soon afterward reached Wheatland. Miss Lane 



DEATH OF HER BROTHER. 457 

heard it, not with iiicliiference, but with less enthusiasm 
than she had shown about any thing in which her 
uncle was concerned. She, however, received his 
friends with a grace which, if sadder than of old, was 
none the less interesting ; and the noble figure clad in 
mourning, and the modest, tender face beneath her 
dark English hat, will never be forgotten by those who 
saw Harriet Lane dispensing the dignified hospitalities 
of Mr. Buchanan's table, or calmly strolling over the 
lawn during the summer of 1856. 

Saddened by sufi'ering, but sustained by her warm 
affection for her uncle, she became the mistress of the 
White House. Hei* younger and favorite brother, 
Eskridge, accompanied Mr. Buchanan and Miss Lane 
to Washington, and after a few days' stay there, went 
home to Lancaster, promising his sister, w^ho was loth 
to bid him good-by, that he would return in about a 
month. But just a month from that parting, the tele- 
graph bore to Mr. Buchanan the news of his sudden 
death. 

The President loved this youth above all his neph- 
ews, and had meant to have him with him at Wash- 
ington. This was a terrible blow to him, but in his 
affliction he was mindful of Harriet, and it was with 
the kindest care he broke to her the intelligence. 

The sister, again and so soon smitten, with a 
crushed heart set out for the scene of death, there to 
yearn over the dear clay of that lost brother. 

When Miss Lane returned to her uncle, it was not 
to parade her trouble, but quietly and cheerfully to 
20 



458 HAERIET LANE. 

assist him in bis social and domestic life ; to keep liei 
grief for her closet, and in the endurance of it, to ask 
no help but God's. Yet all who saw her, subdued 
but dignified, as she received familiar friends during 
those first months in Washington, were struck with 
the elegant repose of her manners, her sweet thanks 
for sympathy, and her kind and gentle interest in 
everything about her. 

The next winter she went to no entertainments, but 
the usual dinners and receptions at home were not omit- 
ted. In her new high sphere she was as much admired 
as she had always been, and after she began to partici- 
pate in the gayeties of that gayest administration, her 
life was made up of a series of honors and pleasures 
such as have never fallen to the lot of any other youn^ 
lady in the United States. 

On the occasion of a New Year's reception, when 
Mr. Buchanan stood up to receive the ambassadors of 
the. world's kingdoms and empires, his great frame, his 
massive head, his noble countenance, marked and 
adorned by the lines of thought, but untouched by 
the wrinkles of decay, made him a spectacle so vast, 
impressive, and majestic, that it did not require the 
addition of his courtly manners to elicit a thrill of 
pride in the breast of every American who beheld 
him. ' 

It would have been a trying contrast to the beauty 
and dignity of any one to have stood by his side ; yet 
it was difficult for those who saw Hai-riet Lane thei-e 
to decide between the uncle and tlu; niece — to say 



IN THE WHITE HOUSE. 459 

which looked the proudest and the greatest — the man 
or the woman, the earlier or the later born. 

Miss Lane's position was n.ore onerous, and more 
crowded with social duties than that of any other per- 
son who filled her place since the days of Martlia 
Washino;ton, because Mr. Buchanan i-eceived not 
merely official visits in the capar;ity of President, but 
his wide acquaintance at home and abroad was the 
cause of his constantly entertaining, as a priv^ate gen- 
tleman, foreigners and others, who came, not to see 
Washington and the President, but to visit Mi*. Bu- 
chanan himself. 

Jefferson Davis, who, for reasons creditable to Mr. 
Buchanan's course at the outb)reak of the secession 
movement, was not friendly to him, speaking to Dr. 
Craven at Fortress Monroe, said : " The White House, 
under the administration of Buchanan, approached 
more nearly to my idea of a Republican Court than 
the President's house had ever done before, since the 
days of Washington." In this compliment, extorted 
by tnith, of course Miss Lane shared. 

Li the summer of 1860, Queen Victoria accepted 
the invitation of the Pi-esident for the Pi-ince of Wales 
to extend his Canadian tour to this country. Of course, 
the duty of preparing for the Pi'ince's I'eception de- 
volved upon Miss Lane, and so admirably did she or- 
der the Executive household, that a party far less ami- 
able than the Prince and the noble gentlemen who 
accompanied him, could not have failed to find their 
visit an agreeable one. Apart from the peisonal quali 



460 IIAREIET LANE. 

ties of this distinguished guest (and Mr. Buchanan 
always spoke with enthusiasm of the admirable quali- 
ties and excellent disposition of his young friend), his 
visit was an occurrence of memorable interest, being 
the first occasion on which an heir apparent to the 
Crown of Great Britain had stood in the Capital of hei" 
lost colonies. Especially did this interest attach, when, 
standing uncovered by the side of the President, be- 
foi'e the gateway of Washington's tomb, and gazing 
reverently on the sarcophagus that holds liis ashes, 
the great-grandson of George the Third paid open 
homage to the memory of the chief who rent his em- 
pire — when the last born king of William the Con- 
queror's blood bowed his knee before the dust of the 
greatest i-ebel of all time. 

The modesty of the Prince's behavior, and his per- 
fectly frank manners attested the excellence of the 
training given him by his good mother and his high- 
souled, wise, and pious father. He entered with all the 
freshness of youth into every innocent amusement 
planned to beguile the hours of his s.tay. 

It m y be well here to mention, as an instance of 
Mr. Buchanan's care for the proprieties of his station, 
that, anxious as it was possible for man to be to gratify 
the Prince, who, on more than one occasion, proposed 
dancing, approving of it as a harndess j)aHtime, and 
fond of it as a spectacle, he yet declined to permit it in 
the White House, for the I'eason that that building was 
not his private home, that it belonged to the nation, 
and that the mo. -id sense of many good ])eople who 



LETTER FROM QUEEN VICTORIA. 401 

had assisted to put bini there, woidd be shocked Ly 
wliat they regarded as profane gayety in the saloons 
of tlie State. 

The visit of the Englisli party lasted five days, 
and tlieysei)arated from Mr. Buchanan and Miss Lane, 
leaving behind them most agreeable recollections. 

On the Prince's arrival in England, the Queen 
acknowledged her sense of the cordiality of his recep- 
tion^ by the President in the following autograph let- 
ter, in which the dignity of an official communication 
is altogether lost in the personal language of a grate- 
ful mother thanking a friend for kindness done her 
fij'st-born child. It is the Queen's Englisli employed 
to ex])ress th(? sentiments of the woman : 

" Windsor Oasti.k, Nov. 19tli, 18()0. 

" My Good Friend :— Your letter of the Gtli ult. 
has afforded me the greatest pleasure, containhig, {is it 
does, such kind expressions with regard to my son, and 
assuring me that the charactei- and object of his Visit 
to you and to the United States have been fully ap- 
preciated, and that his demeanor and the feelings 
evinced by him, have secured to him your esteem and 
the general good will of your countrymen. 

"I purposely delayed the answer to your letter 
until I should be able to couple with it the announce- 
ment of the Prince of Wales' safe return to his home. 
Contrary Avinds and stress of weather have much re- 
tarded Iiis arrival, but we have been fully compensated 
for the anxiety which this long delay has naturally 



462 HAREIET LANE. 

caused us, by findiug him in such excellent health and 
spii'its, and so delighted with all he has seen and ex- 
perienced in his travels. 

" He cannot sufficiently praise the gi'eat cordi- 
ality with which he has been everywhere greeted in 
your country, and the friendly manner in which }'ou 
have received him ; and whilst, as a mother, 1 am 
grateful for the kindness shown him, I feel impelled 
to express at the same time, how deeply I have been 
touched by the many demonstrations of affection per- 
sonally toward myself which his presence has .called 
forth. 

" I fully reciprocate toward your nation the feel- 
ings thus made apparent, and look upon them as form- 
mg an important link to connect two nations of kin- 
dred origin and character, whose mutual esteem and 
friendship must always have so material an influ- 
ence upon their respective development and pros- 
perity. 

" The interesting and touching scene at the grave 
of General Washington^ to which you allude, may be 
fitly taken as the type of our present feeling, and, I 
trust, of our future relations. 

" The Prince Consort, who heartily joins in the 
expressions contained in this letter, wishes to be kindly 
remembered to you, as we both wish to be to Miss 
Lane. 

" Believe me always 

" Your good friend, 

" Victoria E." 



A PEESENT FROM THE PKINCE OF WALES. 463 

The Prince spoke for himself in the following note: 

" Jaffa, March 29th, 18C2. 

''Dear Mr. BucHAisrAN: — Permit me to request 
that you will accept the accompanying portrait as a 
slight mark of my grateful recollection of tlie hospi- 
table reception and agreeable visit at the White House 
on the occasion of my tour in the United States. 

"Believe me that the cordial welcome which was 
then vouchsafed to me by the American people, and 
by you as their chief, can never be effaced from my 
memory. 

" I venture to ask you at the same time to remem- 
ber me kindly to Miss Lane, and 

" Believe me, dear Mr. Buchanan, 

" Yours, very truly, 

" Albert Edward." 

The portrait to which the Prince alludes in the pre- 
ceding letter was a handsome painting of himself, done 
by Sir John Watson Gordon, and sent to Mr. Buchanan. 

The Prince also presented Miss Lane with a set of 
engravings of the Royal Family, which are now in her 
possession. A newspaper correspondent, after Mr. 
Lincoln's inauguration, wrote that the appearance of 
the Mansion was very much changed by the removal 
of the portraits, which had been presented for the 
White House. 

Mr. Buchanan could not let so grave a charge re- 



464 HAKRIET LANE. 

main unanswered, and wrote to Lord Lyons, wliose 
letter is for the first time published. 

" Washingtoij, Doc. 24tli, 1861. 

" SiE : I have this morning had the honor to receive 
your letter of the 19th of this month, requesting me to 
state the facts connected with a present made by His 
Eoyal Highness, the Prince of Wales, to Miss Lane, of 
a set of engravings representing Her Majesty, the 
Queen, and other members of the Royal Family. 

" The Prince of Wales told me, when His Royal 
Highness was at Washington, that he had asked Miss 
Lane to accept these engravings — he said that he had 
not them with him there, but that he would send 
them, through me, from Portland. His Royal High- 
ness accordingly sent them on shore immediately after 
he embarked at that place. 

" They were marked with Miss Lane's name, in the 
handwriting of General Bruce. 

" In obedience to the commands I had received 
from the Prince, I presented them in his name, to Miss 
Lane. I had the honor of placing them myself in her 
hand. 

" I have the honor to be, with the greatest respect, 
Sir, 

" Your most obedient humble servant and friend, 

" Lyons. 

**The Honorable 

"James Buchanan, <fec., &c., <fec." 

When the secession movement was inaugurated by 



AGAIN^ AT WHEATLAND. 4g5 

South Carolina, immediately after tlie election of Mr 
Lmcoln, the position of Mr. Buchanan became one of 
extreme delicacy and difficulty, and in its great cares 
as well as m its petty social annoyances, Miss Lane 
bore a heavy part. 

During those last months of his administration, 
when Mr. Buchanan was harrassed on every side when 
his patriotism was doubted, when his hands— eager to 
hold steady the reins of Government-were tied fast 
by the apathy of Congress and the indifference of the 
-Northern people, his mind was lightened of much of 
Its load of anxiety by the consciousness that his niece 
faithfully represented him in his drawing-room, and 
that his patriotism and good sense would never suffer 
by any conversational lapse of hers. He always spoke 
with warmth and gratitude of her admirable demeanor 
at this critical time. 

And now we see Miss Lane once more at Wheat- 
land, sharing and enjoying the dignified retirement of 
her uncle. 

^ The society of that revered man who was prepar 
mg for a better world and appealing to a higher ]ud<r 
ment than that of a selfish faction, the calm pleasures 
of country life, the continued attentions of enthusiastic 
admirers, the many visits of dear tried friends the con 
solations of religion, and the devotion of one true he-.rt 
that had never ceased its homage, was her compensa- 
tion tor many trials. 

In 1863, Miss Lane was confirmed in the Episconal 
Church at Oxford, Philadelphia, of which her uncle 



46(3 HARRIET LANE. 

was the lector, by Bisliop Stevens. She would bava 
joined the Presbyterian Church to which her uncle 
belonged, had he desired it, because she was as liberal as 
he is known to have been in his religious views, and 
they never differed on doctrinal points. But several 
circumstances had made it convenient for her to attend 
the Episcopal Church a great deal, and she had early 
learned to love its beautiful prayer book, and in any 
other church to miss its sifrniiicant forms. 

About this time occurred the death of James B. 
Lane, leaving Harriet no brother nor sister, nor indeed 
any near relations except her two uncles, the Rev. E. 
Y. Buchanan, and the ex-President, to whom she clung 
with renewed aj&ection. 

However, one morning in January, 1866, when the 
evergreens before the old house at Wheatland were 
burdened with snow, and the lawn was white, and the 
ipring was frozen, and icicles hung from the roof, the 
grounds there were made gay and bi'ight by the assem- 
blage of carriages that brought guests to see the mar- 
riage, by the Bev. Edward Y. Buchanan, of Harriet 
Lane and Henry Elliott Johnston. Indoors, there was 
nothing in the glow of the fire, the odor of the flowers, 
the gratified appearance of the host, or the sRinny faces 
of the we<lding party, to indic;ite the struggle just fin- 
ished between two loves. 

Some weeks after the marriage, Mr. and Mrs. 
Johnston went to Cuba, where tliey spent a monra or 
two most delightfully. Fi'om there, Mr. Johnston took 
his wife to his house in Baltimore, whicii. with charac- 



HER MAREIAGE. 467 

teristic taste, tlioughtfulness, and liberality, he bad 
had elegantly and luxuriously fitted up for the lady of 
his dreams, to whom he forthwith presented it. ■ 

It would scarcely be fair to dwell, in print, upon 
the happiness of this congenial pair, but it would be 
unpardonable if we did not assure the reader, that Mr. 
Johnston is all that Miss Lane's husband ought to be. 
Even those who naturally disliked to see Miss Lane 
pass out of the house of her great kinsman into any 
other home, soon became charmed with Mr. Johnston, 
and could not but congratulate Miss Lane upon this 
choice, made from many lovers. 

Nor can we consent to close this sketch of Mrs. 
Johnston's life without attracting attention to her in her 
last and most endearing relation. Li her most glorious 
days, she was never more beautiful than as a mother, 
and the matronly grace with which shf cares for her 
child is sweeter to her husband thau the early flush 
or the queenly prime when he occasionally ventured 
on presents of fruits or flowers. 

Would that we could now drop the curtain upon 
this fair domestic scene without noticing the cloud that 
has darkened the prosperous life of Mrs. Johnston 
since her marriage. But our own regret for Mr. 
Buchanan is yet so new that we cannot overlook the 
never-dying grief of his niece, or withhold our sym- 
pathy for her in her greatest bereavement. 

Asain, she is at Wheatland — now her own summer 
home — mourning for the good man gone; but com- 
forted by the thought that, though in all his dear fa- 



468 HARRIET LANE. 

miliar haunts she will see him nevermore, he is already 
understood and appreciated, and that history is even 
now doing him justice. Comforted also in knowing 
that her husband ministered to her uncle's dying days, 
and that he received his unqualified confidence and af- 
fection. Comforted also in the sweet task, the great 
work, of training up her boy to be worthy the name of 
James Buchanan Johnston. 



^^ 




l^s ^©[SADflADfl [LaR3©(n)Qi^ 



XXI. 



MARY TODD LINCOLN. 



Maey Todd was a Kentuckian by birth, and a mem- 
ber of the good old Todd family, of Lexington. Her 
younger years were spent in that homely town of 
beautiful surroundings, with an aunt who reared hei', 
she being an orphan. Childhood and youth were 
passed in comfort and comparative luxury, nor did 
she ever know poverty ; but her restless nature found 
but little happiness in the society of her elders, and 
she went when just merging into womanhood, to 
I'eside with her sister in Springfield. The attrac- 
tions of this, then small place, was greatly aug- 
mented by the society of the young people, and 
Mary Todd passed the pleasantest years of her life 
in her sister's western home. On the fourth of 



470 MARY TODD LINCOLIST. 

November, 1842, at the age of twenty-one, she was 
married to Abraham Lincohi, a prominent lawyer, of 
Illinois. A letter written the following May, to Mr. 
Speed, of Louisville, Kentucky, by Mr. Lincoln, con- 
tains the following mention of his domestic life: " We 
are not keeping house," he says, " but boarding at the 
Globe Tavern, which is very well kept now by a widow 
lady, of the name of Beck. Our rooms are the same 
Dr. Wallace occupied there, and boarding only costs 
four dollars a week. I most heartily wish you and 
your Fanny will not fail to come. Just let us know 
the time, a week in advance, and we will have a room 
prepared for you, and we will all be merry together 
for a while." The excellent spirits in which the hus- 
band wrote, must have argued well for the happy mar- 
ried life they were leading. Although much in pub- 
lic life, Mr. Lincoln was holding no office at the time 
of his marriage, but four years later, he was elected to 
Congress, and took his seat December 6th, 1847. Mrs. 
Lincoln did not accomj^any her husband to Washing- 
ton, but remained at her home. It was a season of 
war, and general disturbance through the country, and 
while her husband attended his duties at the Capital, 
Mrs. Lincoln remained with her children in Springfield. 
In August, he returned to enter upon the duties of his 
profession, and to " devote himself to them through a 
series of years, less disturbed by diversions into State 
and National politics than he had been during any pre- 
vious period of his business life. It. was to him a time 
of rest, of reading, of social happiness, and of pi-ofes- 
sional prosperity. He was already a father, and took 



HER HOME LIFE. 471 

an almost unbounded pleasure in his children. Their 
sweet young natures were to him a perpetual source 
of delight. He was never impatient with their petu- 
lance and restlessness, loved always to be with them, 
and took them into his heart with a fondness which 
was unspeakable. It was a fondness so tender and 
profound as to blind him to their imperfections, and to 
expel from him every particle of sternness in his man- 
agement of them."" 

At this time, Mrs. Lincoln was the mother of four 
children, and though one had passed on to the spirit 
world, her home was one of happiness. Ministered to 
by a husband who never knew how to be aught but 
kind to her, and surrounded by evidences of prosperity, 
her lines had fallen in pleasant places, and she was con- 
sidered by her friends, a fortunate woman. 

Mr. Lincoln was a hard student and constant reader, 
and was steadily progressing in knowledge. Thrown 
among talented and educated gentlemen, and possess- 
ing an intense desire for improvement, he had become, 
during the years of his married life, a superior lawyer 
and statesman. His was a progressive nature, striving 
for the golden truths of sage expei'ience. 

Not so had she progressed. Her nature was con- 
tent to remain in its original condition, caring only for 
those distinctions which gratify the vanity and satisfy 
the outward life. 

Ambitious, vain, and overbearing, she yet permitted 
the priceless moments to glide into the past, leaving 
her unmindful of their flig-ht, nni'eo-retful of her loss. 

The immeasurable diatanee between herself and 



472 MARY TODD LINCOLN. 

her husband she did not consider ; yet felt the total 
want of sympathy and congeniality for the pursuit 
which most interested him. Had she been a plain, 
unpretending wife and mother, counting her life com- 
plete in adding to the welfai'e of her family, the world 
would have appreciated the cause of her exceeding 
plainness and want of culture, and would have rever- 
enced her good traits, while excusing her shortcomings. 
But Mrs. Lincoln was not such an one, nor can that 
sensitiveness be felt, in making j^J^blic her life, which 
one so naturally experiences in writing of personages 
in private life. 

Many men of transient, as well as lasting fame in 
every department of life, have been wedded to women 
whose mental calibre was far below their own stand- 
ard, but sweet womanly traits, and the evident desire 
to do good, counterbalanced the want of attainments. 

Wives, in this country especially, have many times 
paid the penalty of ignorance for marrying public 
men. To gain position and the reflection of official 
dignity, they have accej^ted husbands whose means of 
support were precarious, and in the end found only 
disappointment. Left behind when public duties 
called the husband to the seat of government, doomed 
to slavery of the most repulsive kind during perhaps 
the best years of life, the wives of public men in 
modest circumstances are encompassed by endless pri- 
vations, and find, perhaj^s, when their husbands reach 
the summit of fame, they have not even tasted its 
sweets. Ordinary women sink under adverse circum- 
stances, and become a clog to lofty aspirants. Even 



HER SOCIAL POSITION. 473 

when a conscientious regard for duty enables them to 
perforin the unvarying round of monotonous labor 
the result is none the less apparent. Frequently, wives, 
in such cases, turn from themselves to society for an 
undefined something they cannot express. Gossip, 
excitement, and fashion gilds the cup of disappoint- 
ment, if it cannot beautify and refine it. Others, in 
so sad a state, turn with a morbid aftection to those 
dependent upon them, and unselfishly devote time, 
labor, and love to serve others. Though the motive 
is better, the needs of a mental nature are still unsup- 
plied, and thus are consumed existences bound by the 
limits of home. Ofttimes religion dignifies and renders 
beautiful even such uneventful lives, but most fre- 
quently the worry and care of existence steals the 
roundness from the cheek and the light from the once 
sparkling eye. 

But to neither class did Mrs. Lincoln belong. The 
daughter of a Congressman, she became the wife of a 
successful politician, and had ample time and means to 
develop and cultivate herself in every particular. 

Her husband was fond of the society of refined 
women, and would have gladly assisted and encour- 
aged her in the pursuit of any plan either to benefit 
or amuse. Ample time and means were placed l^efore 
her. for years, but she preferred to live in the idle, 
easy manner of many of her acquaintances. 

Mrs. Lincoln, in her childhood, repeatedly asserted 
that she should be a President's wife. So profoundly 
impressed was she with this idea, that she calculated, 
as a girl, the probabilities of such a success with all 



474 MARY TODD LINCOLN. 

lier male friends. Refusing to many an attractive, 
noble, and liigldy-gifted statesman, in her young 
days, she later in life accepted the least handsome of 
men, but who was destined to be finally, although there 
were no earthly probabilities of it then, the President 
of the United States. She was always superstitious, 
her enemies assert, from the fact that she was nursed 
and reared by a negress. But had she been thor- 
oughly acquainted with nature's laws, she would have 
had less fear and more capacity to discriminate be- 
tween the presentiments and warnings, which she 
felt were mysteries. 

Year after year her husband grew beyond her in 
mental strength and culture ; and yet, feeling the dis- 
tance between them, and the inferiority of her own 
mind, she comforted herself with the assurance that 
she was his wife, and if she could not appreciate, she 
could share his good fortune, and rule and be obeyed. 
In all the pictures taken of her — and I have carefully 
examined many — there is an entire lack of spiri- 
tuality evident in every one. The l)row and head 
are narrow and low — the sure indication, wherever 
found, of corresponding intellect. In her physique, 
the moral, physical, and intellectual are proportion- 
ally developed, and each and all on a very ordin- 
ary plane. Her ruling trait is her ambition, which, 
rightly directed, might have been a saving power 
with her, but which, unfortunately, was the means 
of bringing many mistakes. Had slie remained in 
comj)arative retirement, her real nature would, per- 
haps, have been undiscovered ; but, occupying as she 



HER husband's election. 475 

did, tlie loftiest position known in iier country, she 
was tlie centre ot* all eyes, and tlie 'observed of all ob- 
servers. Tliat she foiled utterly in the place which 
she long aspired to fill, is due alone to her ignorance. 
That her name became a synonym of reproach and 
contempt, is the result of two causes — her want 
of self-respect and lack of a knowledge of human 
nature. 

The Republican Convention at Chicago verified Mrs. 
Lincoln's prophecy of being the wife of a President. 
It assembled the IGth of June, 1860, and after a 
close contest between the t^vo favorites of the Kepub- 
lican i:)arty — Governor Seward and Mr. Lincoln — the 
latter was declared unanimously nominated as a can- 
didate for the Presidency. Li Springfield, Mrs. Lin- 
coln waited in her own home for the result of her pre- 
diction, and when at noon the cannon on the public 
square announced the decision of the Convention, 
breathless ^vith excitement, she scarcely dared to ask 
the result. Her husl)and, in the excitement of the 
moment, did not forget her, but putting the telegram 
in his pocket, remarked to his friends that " there was 
a little woman on Eighth street who had some interest 
in the matter " walked home to gladden her heart with 
the good news. That Friday night must have been 
the very happiest of her life, for few women have ever 
craved the position as she did, and it was hers ! 
Crowds of citizens and stran^-ers throno;ed her home 
all the afternoon, and the roar of cannon and the 
wild, tumultuous shouts of excited men filled the town 
with a deafening noise. At night the Republicans 



4V6 MAEY TODD LIlSTCOLlSr. 

marched in a body to Mr. Lincoln's house, and after a 
brief speech, were invited, as many as could get into 
the house, to enter, " the crowd responding that after 
the fourtli of March they would give him a larger 
house. The j^eople did not retire until a late hour, 
and then moved off reluctantly, leaving the excited 
houseliold to their rest." 

And now commenced tlie hfe which Mrs. Lincoln 
had so long anticipated, and if her husband was not 
elated, she was, and the hearts of these two, so nearly 
concerned in this great honor, beat from widely differ- 
ent emotions. " He could put on none of the airs of 
eminence ; he could place no bars between himself and 
those who had honored him. Men who entered his 
house impressed with a sense of liis new dignities, 
found him the same honest, affectionate, true-hearted 
and simple-minded Abraham Lincohi that he had 
always been. He answered his own bell, accompanied 
his visitors to the door when they retired, and felt all 
that interfered with his old homely and hearty habits of 
hospitality as a bui'den, — almost an impertinence." She, 
annoyed by the crowds who thronged the house, and 
the constant interruptions, found it so intolerable that 
Mr. Lincoln took a room in the State House, and met 
his friends there until his departure for Washington. 

Just after the election a circumstance occurred 
which Mrs. Lincoln interpreted in a manner wdiich 
forced one to recall the predictions of her childhood. 
Mr. Lincoln thus repeated it. " It was after my election 
when the news had been comin^: in thick and fast all 
day, and there had been a great 'hurrah, boys! so 



ME. Lincoln's vision. 477 

that I was well tired out and went home to rest^ 
throwing myself upon a lounge in my chamber. Op- 
posite to where I lay, was a bureau with a swinging 
glass upon it ; and looking in that glass, I saw myself 
I'eflected nearly at full length ; but my face, I noticed, 
had two separate and distinct images, the tip of the 
nose of one being about three inches from the tip of 
the other. I was a little bothered, perhaps startled, 
and got up and looked in the glass, but the illusion 
vanished. On lying down again, I saw it a second 
time, plainer, if possible, than before ; and then I 
noticed that one of the faces was a little paler, say five 
shades, than the other. I got up and the thing melted 
away and I went off, and in the excitement of the 
hour foi'got all about it, — nearly, but not quite, for 
the thing would once i n a while come up, and give me 
a little pang, as though something uncomfortable had 
happened. When I went home, I told my wife about 
it, and a few days after I tried the experiment again, 
when, sure enough, the thing came back again ; but I 
never succeeded in bringing the ghost back after that, 
though I once tried very industriously to show it to 
my wife, who was worried about it somewhat. She 
thought it was 'a sign' that I was to be elected to a 
second term of office, and that the paleness of one of 
the faces was an omen that I should not see life through 
the second term." 

Mr. Lincoln regarded the vision as an optical illu- 
sion, caused from nervousness, "yet, with that tinge of 
superstition which clings to every sensitive and deeply 
thoughtful man, in a world full of mysteries, he was 



478 MARY TODD LiisrcoLisr. 

so far affected by it as to feel that ' something uncom- 
fortable had happened.'" Viewed in the light of sub- 
sequent events, Mrs. Lincoln's prophetic interpretation 
of the vision had almost a startling import. 

" Mrs. Lincoln and her three boys were in the car as 
it rolled out of Springfield ; and with them a number 
of Mr. Lincoln's old friends. On arriving at Indiana- 
polis, the party found the city entirely devoted for the 
time to the pleasant task of giving their elected Chief 
Magistrate a fitting reception. Business was suspended, 
flags were floating everywhere, and when, at five 
o'clock, the train rolled into the Union Depot, a salute 
of thirty-four guns announced them and gave them 
greeting." 

The next day the party started by a special 
train for Cincinnati. An immense crowd cheered them 
as they moved o&. Tiie train was composed of four 
passenger cars, the third and fourth of which were 
occupied by the Cincinnati committee of reception. 
The train passed by the burial-place of General Harri- 
son, who had for a short month occupied the presi- 
dential chair, and here the family of the deceased 
patriot were assembled. Mr. Lincoln bowed his respects 
to the group and to the memory of his predecessor. 

The morning of the fourth of March, 1861, broke 
beautifully clear, and it found General Scott and the 
Washington police in readiness for the day. The 
fi-iends of Mr. Lincoln had gathered in from far and 
near, determined that he should be inaugurated. In the 
hearts of the surging crowds there was anxiety ; but 
outside all looked as usual on such occasions, with the 



INAUGURATION OF Mil. LINCOLN. 479 

single exception of an extraordinary display of soldiers. 
The public buildings, the schools and most of the 
places of business were closed during the day, and the 
stars and stripes were floating from every flag-staff. 
There was a great desire to hear Mr. Lincoln's inaugu- 
ral ; and at an early hour, Pennsylvania Avenue was 
full of people, wending their way to the east front of 
the capitol, from which it was to be delivered. 

At five minutes before twelve o'clock, Vice-Presi- 
dent Breckinridge and Senator Foote escorted Mr. 
Hamlin, the vice-Presideut elect, into the Senate- 
Chamber, and gave him a seat at the left of the chair. 
At twelve, Mr. Breckinridge announced the Senate 
adjourned, and then conducted Mr. Hamlin to the seat 
he had vacated. At this moment, the foreign diplo- 
mats, of whom there was a very large and brilliant 
representation, entered the chamber, and took the 
seats assigned to them. At a quarter before one 
o'clock, the Judges of the Supreme Court entered, 
with the venerable Chief-Justice Taney at their head, 
each exchanging salutes with the new Vice-President, 
as they took their seats. At a quarter past one o'clock, 
an unusual stir and excitement announced the coniino; 
of the most important personage of the occasion. It 
was a relief to many to know that he was safely within 
the building ; and those who were assembled in the 
hall regarded with the profoundest interest the en- 
trance of President Buchanan and the President elect 
— the outgoing and the incoming man. A procession 
was then formed which passed to the platform erected 
for the ceremonies of the occasion, in the following 



480 MARY TODD LINCOLN. 

order : Marshal of the District of Columbia, Judges of 
the Supreme Courts and Sergeant-at-arms, Senate 
Committee of Arrangements, President of the Senate, 
Senators, Diplomatic Corps, heads of departments, 
Governors of States and such others as were in the 
chamber. 

-X- * * * -5fr * 

After the reading of the inaugural and the oath 
of office, administered by the venerable Chief- 
Justice Taney, Mr. Lincoln was escorted back to the 
White House, where Mr. Buchanan took leave of him, 
and where he received the large number of persona 
who called to see him. 

During the afternoon, Mrs. Lincoln took possession 
of the White House, and her eventful life commenced 
in Washington. 

The following days were spent with her sisters in 
happy bustle and excitement, arranging for the first 
levee, and domesticating themselves in their new abode. 

It was held the 9th of March, and was tne only 
one of the season. Her personal appearance was de- 
scribed in these words : 

" Mrs. Lincoln stood a few paces from her husband, 
assisted by her sisters, Mrs. Edwards and Mrs. Baker, 
together with two of her nieces, and ;^''as attired in a 
rich pink moire-antique, pearl ornaments, and flowers 
in her hair and hands. She is a pleasant looking, ele- 
gant appearing lady, of perhaps forty, somewhat in- 
clined to stoutness, but withal fine looking and self- 
possessed." The levee was a brilliant one, and many 
citizens and strangers not accustomed to taking part 



THE FIKST LEVEE. 481 

in tlie gPvj woi'ld about them, did tlieinselves the 
pleasure of pajaiig their respects to the new President 
and his family. It ^vas perhaps the proudest occasion 
of Mrs. Lincoln's life — a triumph she had often mused 
upon and looked forward to as in store for her. The 
desire of her heart was gratified, and she was mistress 
of the White House. Surrounded by lier children, 
sustained by her friends, and with her husband accept- 
ing the congratulations of the people, she certainly to 
nil appearances was a fortunate woman. But she was 
not satisfied ! Knowing the opinion many had ex- 
pressed of her inability to maintain the dignity of 
her coveted position, she permitted her mind to dwell 
upon their possible criticisms. The cloud that rested 
oveY her present enjoyment rankled in her heart until 
it stole fi'om her face its pleasantness, and from her 
voice its gladness. 

Ladies who saw her for the first time congratulated 
each other that she had been misrepresented, and, save 
a superabundance of natural ornaments on her hair, 
she was richly and tastefully attired, and was certainly 
dignified and elegant. Thus she appeared to all who 
saw her, and had she followed up the good impression 
she that evening made, her life would be brighter now. 
Discreet reserve in a woman, like the (Ustance- kept 
by royal personages, contributes to maintain proper 
reverence ; but familiarity, especially in a woman of 
high position, tends to sink her lower th:i!i those be- 
neath her. 

Had l\Irs. Lincoln regai'ded the old heathen maxim, 
"Reverence thyself;'' had she, conscious of her nobi^ 



482 MARY TODD LINCOLN. 

ity as a true woman, snrronnded herself with a dig 
nitj befitting not only her momentary elevation, but 
her position as such, the throng who now call her name 
in contempt, would have proudly awarded her the 
acme of praise. It has been justly observed, that un- 
less we respect ourselves, no one will do it for us, and 
the trite phrase holds as good in one as another condi- 
tion in life: the wife of the humble artisan as much 
as the heiress in her mansion or the queen u2:)on her 
throne. 

A woman attains the honors of political positions 
only through her husband, and retains them entirely 
by her own conduct. The freedom of Republican in- 
stitutions is such that a man may by force of talents 
place himself in the presidential chair, but they are 
not such that his wife may with impunity degrade her- 
self. 

Mrs. Lincoln was at the watering-places during the 
summer months of 1861, and after a prolonged trip 
returned to the White House in Novembei'. While 
she was enjoying her new dignity, in receiving the 
flatteries and adulations of every body who chose to 
bestow them, her husband toiled and struggled with 
the manifold duties of his office. Tf he grew sadly 
weary and dispirited, or if the cares were too great for 
his brain to endure, she, all unmindful of his spii'itual 
needs or temporal comforts, found congenial society at 
Saratoga and Long Branch. 

Immediately after her return to the White House, 
she resumed the gayeties she had indulged in else- 
where, and received publicly every night of each week. 



HABITS IN THE WHITE HOUSE. 483 

CircurastaQces whicli so often deprive iiidividuala 
of freedom of action, never exerted such an influence 
over Mrs. Lincoln's life. Hers was an ever-fortunate 
existence, which knew no blight her own wilfulness did 
not invite, nor feel any sorrow not induced by her want 
of common sense. As has been remarked, tlie causa 
causans of all her conduct was ignorance. It was in- 
directly at the root of every terror which mortified her 
friends and astonished strangers. For instance, the 
following incident is an example of her utter want of 
force and judgment, to say nothing of refinement. 

An editor of a prominent paper, who happened to 
be a lady, visited Washington on business for her pa- 
per. Mrs. Lincoln had heard of her in connection 
with this paper, and sent Chevalier Wikoff" to 
request a visit, at the same time placing her cairiage 
at her command. The lady in question accepted the 
invitation, aj)pointed an hour, and with a friend visited 
the White House. It happened to be reception-night, 
and Mrs. Lincoln soon made her appearance in the 
Blue-room attired in full-dress. The enterprising edi- 
tor, after the usual salutations, inquired aftei' the wel- 
fdve of the troops in Wasliington, the hospitals, and 
news from the front, hoping to intei-est her hostess, as 
well as to gain information ; but, unselfish as were her 
motives, she failed utterly. The adjustment of hand' 
kerchief, gloves, and bi-acelets, was of infinitely more 
importance, and the evident desire to impress the visi- 
tor with the personnel of so great an individual, was 
too apparent to be mistaken. Foiled in evei-y effort 
to sustain a conversation, the lady began to flatter her 



484 MARY TODD LINCOLN. 

hostess, and to admire the extreme good taste aud ele- 
gance of her toilet. She wore a pink moire-antique 
dress, very low in the neck, and short in the sleeve, 
richly trimmed with lace ; upon her neck and in her 
ears hung diamonds, and on her hands were the same 
glittering jewels worn over her gloves. Purple gloves 
stitched in crimson, together with yellow roses in her 
hair, completed her attire, which in point of expense 
was certainly considerable. After vainly trying to 
understand why she was invited to a special audience 
an hour before the regular reception, the editor retired 
abashed and dismayed with the conduct of the Presi- 
dent's wife. Instances were not rare of her flagrant 
violations of etiquette, not to say good breeding, and 
her incapacity to sustain the dignity of her station was 
a subject of sorrow and mortification to the friends of 
her husband. 

The mere accident of position, while it has its pres- 
<5nt weight and influence, cannot, apart from personal 
worth, exert any claim over individuals. When the 
pomp and vain-gloi-ying of the moment is past, and 
reason asserts her sway, then merit, and not place, is 
appreciated and rewarded. 

Mrs. Lincoln's paramount idea in her new home 
was to economize, and with that sentiment uppermost 
in her mind detei-mined to do away with the pleasant 
time-honored custom of giving " State dinners." In 
their place she substituted " receptions," which were 
held unceasingly during the winter of '"61-62." The 
death of her favorite son threw a gloom over the 
stately nmnsion, and for a time dispelled all attempts 



DEATH OF WILLIE LINCOLN. 485 

at gayety. The siimraer passed quietly away, aucl Id 
eavlj September Mrs. Lincoln visited New Yoik and 
Boston, and retui'ned after an intei-val to resume the 
quiet life congenial to one bowed with sorrow. Two 
years of mourning outwardly, and perhaps a lifetime 
of inward grief, succeeded Willie's death, and the 
mother, faithful to the memory of her lost child, 
crossed never again the Guests' Room in which he died, 
or the Green Room where his body had lain. 

In 1864, the receptions were renewed, and the old 
habitues of the White House flocked in nmnbers to a 
pleasure from which they had so long been debarred. 
Excitement and happiness filled the hearts of the 
guests, while anxiety and care depressed the feelings of 
host and hostess. War, relentless and insatiate, stalk- 
ed abroad in the land, and the weary cry of a down- 
trodden people echoed in the night- winds as they swept 
past the nation's home. 

The reelection of President Lincoln was the topic 
of conversation throughout the North a year prior to 
the time appointed for the final decision. His success 
and subsequent events need not be reiterated; they are 
known to the world and regretted by every lover of 
peace and order. 

After the death of the President, Mrs. Lincoln re- 
mained five weeks in the White House, durino- which 
time she incurred the odium that now rests upon her. 
Illness, it was said, detained her after the remains of 
her husband had been borne back to -his old home, and 
perhaps to this cause may be attributed the condition 
of the house after her departure. Sufficient is it to 



486 MAEY TODD LINOOLTST. 

know tliat during this time it was plundered of all tLe 
ornaments, many of the heavy articles of furniture, and 
all of the smaller pieces of silver and dining-ware. 
Curtains were demolished, sofas cut and injured, while 
the entire building was left unswept and uncleaned, 
reeking in the accumulated filth of many weeks of con- 
stant hard usas-e. Whether the President's wife was 
to blame for this state of affairs, or whether she was 
responsible for the many articles of public property 
taken then, none can positively assert. 

The regulations of the establishment were not rig- 
orous, and had not been complied with at any time of 
her stay. As a matter of econom}^, she dismissed 
the steward who had been there with President Bu- 
chanan, and who had control of the public property, 
and undertook to attend to this matter herself. This 
she had no time to do, and hence, to the tender 
mercy of numerous servants was left the care of the 
household. 

All was in confusion during this season of ])acking 
— dependants, expecting to leave, idly sauntered about 
the building, working when they chose. Officials unde- 
cided how to act under such extraordinary circum- 
stances, but hoping it would soon end, waited while 
Mrs. Lincoln, all unmindful, remained closely in her 
own apartments, seeing no one but the servants, and 
sending such amounts of baggage that the commission 
of buildings hoped each day to be notified of the final 
departure. 

But if this state of afi^airs annoyed some, it was 
highly gratifying to the rabble who wandered at will 



AFTER THE ASSASSIlSrATIOlSr. 487 

tliroLigli tlie unkemmed mansion, and lounged in secu- 
rity on the sofas and divans of tlie East Room. 

To the fact that no one felt justified in taking 
charge of the house while Mrs. Lincoln remained, may 
be attributed its deplorable condition. Many things 
may be accounted for, and some grave charges cleared 
away, when this fact is remembered; but the subject 
is distasteful, the thoughts suggested are humiliating 
to our pride, and we are glad to turn from the theme. 

In January, 1869, Mrs, Lincoln wrote the following 
letter to the Vice-President of the United States, ask- 
ing for a pension, and the Washington papers of the 
following day contained the following. 

The President of the Senate yesterday presented to 
that body the following petition from Mrs. Lincoln. 

To the Honorable Vice-President of the United 
States. 

Sir : I herewith most respectfully present to the 
Honorable Senate of the United States an application 
for a pension. I am a widow of a President of the 
United States, whose life was sacrificed in his country's 
service. That sad calamity has very greatly impaired 
my health, and by the advice of my physicians I have 
come over to Germany to try the mineral waters, and 
during the winter to go to Italy. But my financial 
means do not permit me to take advantage of the urg- 
ent advice given me, nor can I live in a style becom- 
ino; the widow of the Chief Mas^istrate of a ffreat nation, 
although I live as economically as I can. In consider- 
ation of the great services my deeply lamented hus- 



488 MARY TODD LINCOLN. 

baud has rendered to tlie United States, and of the 
fearful loss I have sustained by bis untimely death, 
his martyrdom, I may say — I respectfully submit to 
your honorable body this petition. Hoping that a 
yearly pension may be granted me, so that I may have 
less pecuniary care, I remain most respectfully, 

Mrs. a. Lincoln. 
Frankfort, Germany. 

The bill was introduced by Senator Morton, of 
Indiana, and it was referred to the Committee on Pen- 
sions. Mr. Van Winkle, the cliairman of that com- 
mittee, made a report in which the committee said, in 
substance, they were unable to perceive that Mrs. Lin- 
coln, as the widow of the late President, or in any 
other character, was entitled to a pension under the 
letter and spirit of any existing law. 

" The committee are aware the friends of the reso- 
lution expect to make a permanent provision for the 
lady under the guise of a pension ; but no evidence 
has been furnished to them, or reasons assigned why 
such provision should be made. If such was the in- 
tention, the committee submit, the refei*ence s:.ould 
have been made to some other committee, as the com- 
mittee on pensions, at least for some years past, have 
not thought it compatible with their duty or the ob- 
jects of their appointment to recommend in any case 
the granting of any special j^ension, or any pension of 
a greater amount than is allowed by some general law 
If they thought the amount so allowed too small, they 
would feel it incumbent on thein to report a general 



HEK APPEAL FOE A PENSIOW. 439 

bill for like relief in all similar cases. If the increase 
l>roposed was on account of estraordinaiy military or 
naval services, the proper reference would 1,e to the 
military or naval committee. Under all these circuiu- 
stances, the committee have no alternative but to re- 
poi-t against the passage of the general resolutions " 



XXIL 

ELIZA McCARDLE JOHNSOK. 

In the autumn of 1824, the term of a fatlierlesg 
boy's apprenticeship expired, and he entered the world 
rich only in energy, and a noble ambition to provide 
for a widowed mother. But he was sensitive and 
anxious to enlarge his facilities for an education, and 
his strong mind grasped and analyzed the fact that to 
succeed he must form new ties, and find a broader field 
of action. Tennessee was the land of promise which 
attracted his attention, and, accompanied by his mother, 
who justly deserved the aifection he bestowed upon 
her, he reached Greenville in 1826. 

Young, aspiring, and ambitious, he was not long in 
making friends, and among them a beautiful girl 
evinced her appreciation of his character, by becoming 
his wife. Eliza McCardle was the only daughter of 
a widow, whose father had been dead many years, and 
v/liose life had been spent in her mountain home. 
When she was married, she had just reached her seven- 
teenth year, and her husband was not yet twenty-one. 

Education in those days did not comprehend and 
embrace the scientific accomplishments it does now, but 
a naturally gifted mind, endowed with much common 
«euse, received a broad basis for future development. 
She was well versed in the usual branches of instruc- 
tiLii, and possessed, in an extraordinary degree, that 




•^"'rj 



MmSoJ^J?IE)IEIE>^^ jr(D)ISIMS?(D)M. 



HEE ASSISTANCE TO HER HUSBAND. 491 

beauty of face and form which i-endered her mother 
one of the most beautiful of women. 

It is a mistiiken idea that she tau2"ht her husband 
his letters ; for in the dim shadows of the workshop at 
Raleigh, after the toil of the day was complete, he had 
mastered the alphabet and made himself generally ac- 
quainted with the construction of words and sentences. 
The incentive to acquire mental attainment was cer- 
tainly enhanced when he felt the superiority of her ac- 
quirements, and fi'om that time his heroic nature began 
to discover itself. In the silent watches of the night, 
while sleep rested upon the village, the youthful couple 
studied together ; she ofttimes reading as he completed 
the weary task before him, oftener still bending over 
him to guide his hand in writing. 

He never had the benefit of one day's school rou- 
tine in his life, jet he acquired by perseverance the 
benefits denied by j^overty. What a contemplation it 
must have been to those mothers who watched over 
their children as they struggled together ! Let time 
in its flight transport us back thirty years, and see what 
a scene was being then enacted there. In that obscure 
village in the mountains, three strong, yet tender- 
hearted women watched over and cherished the bud- 
ding genius of the future statesman. History, in pre- 
serving its record of the life and services of the seven- 
teenth President of the United States, rears to them 
a noble tribute of their faithfulness. 

Thirty years ago, the young wife, thrifty and indus- 
trious all day, worked patiently and hopefully as night 
brought her pupil again to his studies, and punctually 



492 ELIZA m'oAKDLE JOHNSON. 

completed her womanly duties, tliat she might be 
ready for the never- varying rule of their lives. Much 
of latent powers does he owe to her indefatigable zeal 
and encouragement, and he cannot forget those evening 
hours, years ago, when the mighty scintillations of na- 
tural genius first began to dawn, which ultimately con- 
verted the tailor boy into tlie Senator, and subsequently 
into the President of his country. 

Year after year she has watched him, as he has 
risen step by step, and is with him now, willing and 
earnest as when in life's bright morn they were mar- 
ried. 

The later years of Mrs. Johnson's life have been 
crowned with the honors lier husband's successes have 
won, but her younger days are fraught with most in- 
terest to all who can appreciate true woi'th and genuine 
greatness of soul. 

In her girlhood, she was the purest type of a south- 
ern beauty, and like her mother, was very graceful and 
agreeable in her manners. I have beard persons say 
her mother was the handsomest lady in all that region 
of country, and her old neighbors stoutly maintain 
that Mrs. Johnson is the image of her. Her extreme 
modesty denies the imputation that she was the belle 
of the county. 

While their means increased as time passed, and the 
caroling of their little children gladdened their home, 
Ml. Johnson received his first substantial proof of the 
confidence of the community in which he lived, in his 
election as "alderman." How intense must have been 
the joy of the good wife as she saw her pupil progress- 
ing in a career he was so well fitted to occupy ! 



HER HOME LIFE. 493 

At this time, their residence was situated on a hill, 
just out of Greenville, simple and plain in its surround- 
ings, yet the resort of the youug people of the village. 
The college boys, as they passed to and fro on errands, 
always stopped to enjoy a chat with their " Demosthe- 
nes," and were ever welcomed by the genial, frank 
manners of the gentle wife. 

Fresh laurels crowned the alderman's brow when 
he was chosen Mayor, and for three terms he filled the 
position with credit, winning for himself an enviable 
rQf)utation for honest deeds and correct principles. 

Little has been written of Mrs. Johnson, mainly 
from the fact that she always opposed any publicity 
being given to her private life, and from the reluctance 
of her friends to pain her by acceding to the oft-re- 
peated requests of persons for sketches of herself. In 
a conversation not long since, with her, she remarked 
"that her life had been spent at home, caring for her 
children, and practising the economy rendered neces- 
sary by her husband's small fortune." 

An impartial writer cannot be swayed by such na- 
tural and creditable sentiments, nor is it just that a 
woman who has been the means of advancing her hus- 
band's interests so materially, and occupying the posi- 
tion she does, should be silently passed by. She de- 
serves, as she receives, from all who are fortunate 
enough to know her, the highest encomiums ; for by her 
unwearying efforts she has been a stepping-stone to her 
husband's honors. Patient and forbearing, she is uni- 
versally liked, and if she has an enemy, it is from no 
fault of liers, noi* does she number any among the ac- 
quaintances of a lifetime. 



49 -i ELIZA m'cAKDLE JOHNSOlSr. 

Like Mr. Johnson, she has very few living rela^ 
tives; her children having neither aunts nor uncles, 
and years ago deprived of both grandmothers. Mrs. 
Johnson's mother died in April, 1854, and his parent 
lived until Februaiy, 1856 ; each having been the ob- 
ject of his tenderest care, and living to see him hold- 
ing the highest position his native State could bestow. 
There was not two years' difference in the deaths of 
these two mothers, and it is the unspeakable happiness 
of their children to know that as the wick burned low, 
and the lamp of time went out, all that peace aiid 
plenty could devise for their happiness they received, 
and their departure from earth was rendered calmly 
serene b}^ the assurance that their work was well done 
and finished. 

When the civil war, which snapped the cords of so 
many old persons' lives and hurried them to premature 
graves, sounded its dread tocsin through East Tennes- 
see, it was a source of mournful satisfaction to know 
that those two aged mothers lay unconscious of the ap- 
proaching conflict which was to bathe that section of 
the State in blood. The tall grass grew unharmed, 
and no impious hand desecrated the resting place of de- 
parted virtue. 

During the meetings of the Legislature to which 
Mr. Johnson was repeatedly called, Mrs. Johnson re- 
mained at Greenville ; and while he sought honors and 
support away from home, she found compensation for 
his pi'olonged absence in the knowledge that she best 
})romoted his interest when she lived within their still 
slender means. Her children received the benefit of 



HER RESIDENCE IIST aREET^^VILLE. 495 

her ripe, matured experience, until one by one they 
left their home ; two to many and dwell near her, and 
tl^e youngest to be a comfort in her days of suffering. 
Her home in Greenville was thus desci'ibed in 1865: 
" Just down there, at the base of this hill, stands a 
small brick building with a back porch, and around it 
the necessary fixtures. It stands on the corner of the 
square, near where the mill-i-ace passes under the street 
on its way down to the little mill. That is the first 
house Andrew Johnson ever owned. It now belongs 
to another person. Almost directly opposite the 
mill, whose large wheel is still moving, but whose 
motion is scarcely perceptible, you will see a rather 
humble, old-fashioned looking, two-story brick house, 
standing near the south end of Main street. It has 
but one entrance from the street. In front of it stand 
three or four small shade-trees. The fences of the lot 
and windows of the house show evident signs of dilapi- 
dation, the consequences of rebellion and of rebel rule. 
Like many other windows in the South, a numbei' of 
panes of glass are broken out and their places supplied 
with paper. Glass could not be obtained in the Con 
federacy. As you pass along the pavement on Main 
street, by looking into the lot you will see several 
young apple-trees, and in the spaces between two of 
them are potatoes growing. In the rear of the kitch- 
en stands a small aspen shade-tree, and down there in 
the lower end of the lot is a gi-ape-vine trained upon 
a trellis, forming a pleasant bower. Scattered over the 
lot are a number of rose, currant, and gooseberry 
bushes. At the lower end of the lot, and just outside, 



496 ELIZA m'cardle joiiisrsoisr. 

stand two large weeping willows, and under their 
shade is a very beautiful spring. This is the residence 
of Andrew Johnson, President of the United Stat^ 
Uj) the street stands his former tailor shop, with the 
old sign still on it. And in an old store-room up the 
street are the remains of his library. At present, it con- 
sists principally of law books and public documents, 
most of his valuable books having been destroyed by 
the rebel soldiers." 

In the spring of " '61," Mrs. Johnson spent two 
months in Washington with her husband, then a Senator, 
but failing health compelled her early return to Ten- 
nessee. Long and stormy were the seasons which passed 
before she again met Mr. Johnson, and how changed 
were all things when they resumed the broken thread 
of separation, after an interval of nearly two years ! 

At her home quietly attending to the duties of life, 
and cheered by the frequent visits of her children, she 
was startled one bright morning by the following sum- 
mons : 

" HEADQrAETEE8 DePAETMENT OF EaST TENNESSEE, ) 

" Office Peovost Maeshal, April 24th, 1862. ) 

" Mrs. Andrew Johnsot^, Greenville, 

"Dear Madam: — By Major-General E. Kirby 
Smith I am directed to respectfully require that you 
and your family pass beyond the Confederate States' 
line (through Nashville, if you please) in thirty-six 
hours from this date. 

" Passports will be granted you at this office. 
" Very respectfully, 

" W. M. Chukchwell, 

'' Colonel and Provost Marshal." 



HER TRIALS DURING THE WAR, 497 

This v/as an impossiljility, hoth on account of ber 
very poor health, and the unsettled state of her affairs. 
Nor did she know where to go; rumors reached her 
of the murder of Mr. Johnson in Kentucky, and again 
at Nashville; then again she would hear that he lad 
not left Washington. She knew not what to do, and 
accordingly wi-ote to the authorities for more time to 
decide on some definite plan. 

The military movements delayed the execution of 
the next order sent her, and the continued illness of 
Mrs. Johnson distressed her children, who knew that 
a change of residence would sooner or later become 
necessary. All the summer she remained in Greenville, 
occasionally visiting her daughters, and hoping daily to 
hear of her husband. September came, and knowing 
she would be compelled to leave East Tennessee, she 
applied to the authorities for permission to cross the 
lines, accompanied by her children and her son-in-law 
Mr. Stover. ' ' 

Finally, after numerous endeavors, the cavalcade set 
out. A few miles out from town they were ovei'taken 
by an order to return. 

Reaching Murfreesboro, exhausted and weary from 
the long trip, the little band were told they could not 
go through the lines. The Confederate troops occu- 
pied this once beautiful town, and no accommo- 
dations were to be obtained. Wandering from one 
house to another after the long walk from the depot, 
in the night-time, without food or shelter, Mrs. Johnson 
and her children despaired of securing any more invit- 
ing abode than the depot, and that was a long dis- 



498 ELIZA m'cAKDLE JOHNSON. 

tance from the centre of tLe town. As a last resoi't, a 
woman was requested to sliare her home with the tired 
refugees, and she consented with the undei'staneling 
that in the morning they would depart. Next day 
they returned to Tullahoma, l)ut on arriving there I'e- 
ceived a telegram to retrace their steps, as arrangements 
had been made for their passage through to Nashville. 

A former friend of the family obtained this favor 
for them, and, nothing daunted, night again found the 
same band at Murfreesboro. 

No effort was made to secure lodgings, all preferring 
to stay on the cars, rather than undertake the expe- 
riences of the previous night. 

The eating-house near by was vacant, and into this 
Colonel Stover conducted the tired party. Without 
fire or food, or any kind of beds or seats, they determined 
to stay as best they could ; and but for the thought- 
ful, motherly care of Mr,^. Johnson, it would have been 
a night of horrors. She had provided herself with 
candles and matches before starting, and the remnants 
of an old lunch satisfied the hunger of the little ones, 
and rendered less cheerless their lonel}^ abode. 

Thus, from one trouble to another, subject to the 
commands of military rulers, liable to be an'ested for 
the slightest offence, and ofttimes insidted by the rab- 
ble, Mrs. Johnson and her children performed the 
perilous journey from Greenville to Nashville. Few 
who were not actual participators in the civil war can 
form an estimate of the trials of this noble woman. 
Invalid as she was, she yet endured exposure and anx- 
iety, and passed through the extended lines of hostile 



TIER ARRIVAL AT NASHVILLE. 409 

armieSj never uttering a hasty word or by lier looks be* 
traying in tlie least degree her harrowed feelings. 
Wherever she passed, she won kind words and herirty 
pravers for a safe journey, and is remembered by friend 
and foe as a lady of benign countenance and sweet, 
winning manners. 

The following day Mrs. Johnson received the fol 
lowing note : 

"MuRFEEEBBORO, Octobcr 12tli, 18G2. 

" Mrs. Andrew Johnson : Gen'l Forrest sends a 
flag of truce to JSTashville to-morrow morning, and he 
wishes you and your party to make your arrangements 
to go down with, the flag, at seven o'clock a.m. to- 
morrow. 

" The General regrets that he has no transportation 
for you ; he will send a two-horse wagon to carry your 
baggage, &c. By remaining until to-morrow, you can 
go the direct route to Nashville ; by going previous to 
that time, the route would be necessarily circuitous. 
" Respectfully, 

"IsHAJi G. Harris." 

A diary kept by a citizen of Nashville at this time, 
contains the following : 

" Quite a sensation has been produced by the 
arrival in Nashville of Governor Johnson's family, after 
incurring and escaping numerous perils while making 
their exodus from East Tennessee. The male members 
of the familv were in dana:er of beinc; liuno- on more 
than one occasion. They left Bristol, in the extrerne 



500 ELIZA m'cakdle JOIIlSrSON^. 

northeastern section of the State, on the Virginia line, 
by permission of the Rebel War Department, accom- 
panied by a small escort. Wherever it became known on 
the railroad route that Andrew Johnson's family were 
on the train, the impertinent curiosity of some rebels 
was only equalled by the clamor of others for some 
physical demonstration on Johnson's sons. Ai'iiving 
at Murfreesboro, they were met by General Forrest 
and his force. Forrest refused to allow them to pro- 
ceed, and they were detained some time, until Isham 
G. Harris and Andrew Ewing, noted rebels, telegraphed 
to Richmond and obtained peremptory orders allowing 
them to proceed. The great joy at the reunion of this 
long and sorrowfully separated family may be imagin- 
ed. I will not attempt to describe it. Even the Gov- 
ernor's Roman firmness was overcome, and he wept tears 
of thankfulness at this merciful deliverance of his be- 
loved ones from the hands of their unpitying per- 
secutors." 

Nashville and comparative quiet were at last reach- 
ed, and the long separated family hoped their trials 
were over. Mrs. Johnson had exhausted her streno;th, 
and for many months kept her room, too feeble to ven- 
ture out. But her little grandchildren enjoyed the 
freedom of play once more, and their haj)py faces are 
remembered by sti'angers and friends who watched 
them in their gambols about the capital. But all missed 
the pleasant companionship of their little cousins, and 
longed to have " Belle " and " Andrew," to share their 
sports. 

By-and-by Mrs. Patterson joined the family in the 



DEATH OF HER OLDEST SON. 501 

safe asylum tliey had found in Nashville, and young 
and old were happy in the reunion. But trouble, never 
far from Mrs. Johnson, came very near in the cruel 
death of her eldest son. Not long after receiving his 
diploma as physician, he was appointed a surgeon in 
the First Tennessee Infantry. 

One bright spring luorning, he started on his 
rounds of professional duty. In the exuberance of 
health, youth, and spirits, he sprang upon the horse of 
a brother officer. He had gone but a short distance, 
when the high-mettled creiature reared upon its hind 
feet suddenly ; the young man was thrown backward, 
and falling upon the frozen earth, was instantly killed. 
The concussion fractured his skull. Mrs. Johnson has 
grieved for this son as did Jacob for his beloved Joseph, 
and ijot only the mother, but the whole family have 
mourned with unusual poignanc}^ his untimely death. 
Any mention of " Charlie's " name brings to their eyes 
the hot tears, and a sadness hard to dispel, gathers 
about their lips, when some familiar object recalls their 
loved and early lost one. 

The Convention, in 1864, nominated Andrew John- 
son, then Military Governor, for the Vice Presidency, 
on the ticket with Mr. Lincoln. In March, 1865, Mr. 
Johnson left his family in Nashville and went on to 
Washington. It was theii' intention to vacate the 
house then occupied by their fiimily and remove to 
their home in Greenville, but the events of the coming 
month caused them to form other plans. President 
Lincoln was assassinated the 14th of A])ril, and the 
Vice President was immediately sworn into office. A 



503 ELIZA m'cATIDLE JOHNSON. 

telegraphic notice in the Xashville papers the next 
morning contained the following : 

" The Vice President has already assumed tlie au- 
thority which the Constitution de^^olYes upon him, and 
vve feel doubly assured that he will so conduct himself 
in his high office as to merit the affection and applause 
of his coimtrymen." As this was the first murder of 
a ruler in the experience of the Republic, it will ever 
occupy a prominent place in the history of America, 
and, involving as it did the result of civil war, will 
live a silent monitor to all democratic countries. Had 
the conspii'acy, which had been carefully planned, been 
successfully executed, the Government would have 
been paralyzed. Even as it was, and there was but 
one death, when many others were meditated, the shock 
was terrible and lasting. It was a humiliating calam- 
ity to our free government, and a source of national 
sorrow and mortification. Men and women, reared to 
idealize ratlier than ponder on the principles of the 
system under which they had lived ; educated to give a 
ready assent to the hero worslup of the signers of 
the Declaration, and voluntary adoration to the First 
General of our army, and the first President, rudely 
awakened from their dream of a perfect Government, 
became discouraged and dismayed at the unexpected, . 
never to he thought of, murder of a President. It 
may not be amiss to give a few facts in connection with 
this unhappy afi'air, relative to the husband of Mrs. 
Johnson, which, afi'ecting her interests materially, are 
not out of place in this brief sketch of her life. 

After her ari'ival in Washington, a beautifully 



MR. John-son's escape. 503 

bound album, containing tlie letters of the Wisconsin 
State Historical Society, to Senator Doolittle, and the 
replies of himself and Ex-Governor Farwell, was pre- 
sented to her. The letters were inscribed by an ex 
pert penman, and are prized by the family as a truth 
ful account of their father's narrow escape from death^ 
together with the main incidents of the assassination 
conspiracy. 

The Historical Society of Wisconsin, through Hon. 
L. C. Draper, its* Secretary, wrote to Senator J. R. 
Doolittle for a full account of the circumstances; to 
which he replied, that " by the sagacity, presence of 
mind, courage, and devotion of Governor Farwell, our 
own distinguished fellow-citizen, Mr. Johnson, was ap- 
prized of his danger, and his life secured, if not al)so- 
lutely saved from destruction ; " " aud it is a matter 
of congratulation to ourselves and our State that a 
former Governor of Wisconsin was successfully efficient 
in securing the life of the nation's Chief Magistrate." 

Governor Farwell's letter, in reply to the request 
of the Society, through Senator Doolittle, is perhaps 
the most authentic statement ever made in regard to 
the unfortunate affair. It is as follows : 

" Washington, February 8, 1866. 

" Hon". James E,. Doolittle, United States Senate. 

" Dear Sir : I have received your favor of the 22d 
ult., requesting, on behalf of the Wisconsin State His- 
torical Society, a statement of my connection with the 
occun'ences that took place in this city on the night 
of the assassination of President Lincoln. It is a 



50-4 ELIZA m'cakdle JOIINSOlSr. 

mournful task to recall tlie terrible scenes that I then 
witnessed. Yet in order that the expressed wishes of 
that Societ)^, of which from the time of its formation 
I have been a member, and in which I have always 
taken a deep interest, may be gratified, and a truthful 
account of those events, so far as I witnessed them, 
may find its way into liistory, I comply with the request. 

" At the time of tJie assassination of President Lin- 
coln, I was boarding at the Kirkwood House, my fam- 
ily being then in Wisconsin. The Vice President had 
rooms, and was boarding at the same place, and I there 
came to know him, and occasionally passed an evening 
in his toom. 

" Early in the evening of April 14th, 1865, I called 
to see Mr. J. B. Crosby, of Massachusetts, and found 
that he had but a short time to stay, and was very de- 
sirous of seeing the President before his return. Hav- 
ing noticed in the papers a statement that Mr. Lincoln 
was expected to be present at Ford's Theatre on that 
evening, to witness the play entitled ' Our American 
Cousin,' we concluded to go thither for the express 
purpose of seeing him. This we did, and procured 
seats, having tlie President's ])ox in full view on our 
right. When the fatal shot was fired, we involunta- 
rily turned our eyes to the box from wliich the sound 
])roceeded, and at the same instant the horrible vision 
of J. Wilkes Booth flashed upon my eyes, brandishing 
a knife, and jumping fi'oni tlie President's box, repeat- 
ing the words, ' Sic Semper Tyrannis.' I had scarcely 
seen and heard him before he had vanished from the 
stage. As the President fell, and the cry ran through 



GOVEKNOE FAinVELL's LETTER. 505 

tjie liouse that lie was assassinated, it flasliecl across ni} 
mind tliat there was a conspiracy being consummated 
to take the lives of the leading: officers of the Govern- 
ment, which would include that of Mr. Johnson. The 
cause of this suspicion and of my alarm for the safety 
of Mr. Johnson was, prol^ably, the fact of my having 
read in some newspaper the article copied from the 
Selma (Ala.) Desjiiatch, being an offer by some fiendish 
rebel to aid in contributing a million of dollars for 
procuring the assassination of Lincoln, Johnson, and 
Seward. While some seemed paralyzed by the bold- 
ness of the deed, and others intent upon knowing how 
seriously the President was injured, I rushed from the 
theatre and ran with all possible speed to the Kirk- 
wood House, to aj)prise Mr, Johnson of the impending 
danger, impelled by a fear that it might even then be 
too late. Passing Mr. Spencer, one of the clerks of the 
hotel, who was standing just outside the door, I said 
to him, ' Place a guard at the door. President Lincoln 
is murdered;' and to Mr. Jones, another clerk, who 
was at the office desk as I hurried by — ' Guard the 
stairway and Governor Johnson's room, Mr. Lincoln 
is assassinated ;' and then darting up to Mr. Johnson's 
room, No. 68, I knocked, but hearing no movement, I 
knocked again, and called out with the loudest voice 
that I could command, ' Governor Johnson, if you are 
in this room I must see you.' In a moment I heard 
him spring from his bed, and exclaim, ' Farwell, is 
that you?' 'Yes, let me in,' I replied. The door 
opened, I passed in, locked it, and told him the terri- 
ble news, which for a time overwhelmed us both, and 



50G ELIZA M'CARDLE JOHNSON. 

grasping hands, we fell upon each other as if for 
mutual 'iupport. But it was only for a moment. 
While every sound suggested the stealthy tread of a 
conspirator, and every corner of the chamber a lurking 
place, yet Mr. Johnson, without expressing any appre 
hension for his own safety, and with that promptness 
and energy which has always characterized him, at 
once deliberated upon the proper course to meet the 
emergency. But the moment of danger had passed. 
The officers of the hotel, as requested by me, had sta- 
tioned guards, who in a short time were released by 
Secretary Stanton. Soon many personal friends of 
Mr. Johnson arrived, anxiously inquiring for his safety. . 
In the mean time, the news of the murderous assault 
upon Secretary Seward and his son Frederick had 
reached us, and justified our fears as to the general 
purpose of the conspirators. Mr. Johnson was desir- 
ous of knowing the real condition of the President 
and Mr. Seward, and requested me to go and see them 
personally, and not to credit any story or rumor that 
might be flying about the city. This was no easy task. 
Distrust and horror seemed to fill every mind. The 
very atmosphere was burdened with stories of dark 
conspiracies and bloody deeds. Thousands of ex- 
cited citizens, soldiers, and guards, blocked up every 
avenue leading to Mr. Peterson's house. No. 453 Tenth 
Street, to which the President had been carried, and 
in which he was dying. None but prominent citizens, 
either known to the officers of the guard, or who could 
be generally vouched for, were allowed to pass, and it 
was with the utmost difficulty that I succeeded in 



THE ASSASSIlSrATION" OF LIiSrCOLl^. 507 

working my way tlirougli the crowd and past the 
guards to the house, and then into the room in which 
the President had been i^h^ced. The uey/s was all 
too true. There he lay, evidently in the agonies of 
death, his medical attendants doing all that human 
zeal or skill could devise, and many of his friends had 
gathered about him, some in tears. Turning away 
from this sad sight, I worked my way to the house of 
Secretary Seward, and there, too, I found that the vil- 
lains had done their work. I then returned and re- 
ported to Mr. Johnson the disastrous doings of the 
conspirators. In a short time Mr. Johnson resolved to 
see the President himself. His friends thought he 
ought not to leave the house when there was so much 
excitement in the city, and when the extent of the 
conspiracy was unknown. President Lincoln had just 
been shot in the presence of a crowded assembly, and 
his assassin had escaped. Secretary Seward had been 
stabbed in his chamber, and the minion had fled. But 
he determined to go. Major James R. O'Beirne, com 
manding the Provost Guard, desired to send a detach- 
ment of troops with him, but he declined the offer, 
and, buttoning up his coat, and pulling his hat well 
down, he I'equested me to accompany him and the 
Major to lead the way, and thus we went through the 
multitude that crowded the tstreets and filled the pas- 
sage-way, till we joined the sad circle of friends who 
were grouped around the bedside of the dying Presi- 
dent. It is unnecessary to add any thing more to thia 
account of my connection with an event which forms, 
with the rebellion plot, the darkest chapter iu our 
eounti'v's liistory. 



508 ELIZA m'cAEDLE JOHNSON. 

" If it is true, as regarded by many, that the life 
of President Johnson was saved by the timely arrival 
of citizens at the Kirkwood, at the risk of their lives, 
then such risk was properly, and so far as I am con- 
cerned, joyfully incurred, and this statement may be 
worthy of ^^reservation. Trusting that tliis may meet 
the wishes of the Society as expressed through you, 
" I have the honor to be, 
" Respectfully, 

" Your obedient servant, 

"L. J. Faewell." 

The Washington correspondent of the Chicago Re- 
publican thus speaks of Mrs. Johnson : 

" Mrs. Johnson, a confirmed invalid, has never ap- 
peared in society in Washington. Her very existence 
is a myth to almost every one. She was last seen at a 
party given to her grandchildren. She was seated in 
one of the Republican Court chairs, a dainty affair of 
satin and ebony. She did not rise when the children 
or old guests were presented to her ; she simply said, 
' My dears, I am an invalid,' and her sad, pale face and 
sunken eyes fully proved the expression. Mrs. Johnson 
looks somewhat older than the President, and her age 
does exceed his by a few swings of the scythe of time. 
She is an invalid now, but an observer would say, 
contemplating her, 'A noble woman — God's best gift 
to man.' Perhaps it is well to call to mind at this time 
that it was this woman who taught the President to 
read, after she became his wife, and that in all their 
earlier years she was his counsellor, assistant, and guide. 



IN THE WHITE HOUSE. 509 

None but a wise and good mother could have reared 
such daughters as Mrs. Patterson and Mrs. Stover. 
When Mrs. Senator Patterson found herself 'the first 
lady in the land,' she made this remark, which has 
been the key-note of the feminine department of the 
White House from that day to the' present time: ' We 
are plain people, from the mountains of Tennessee, 
called here for a short time by a national calamity. 
I trust too much will not be expected of us.' When 
Anna Siirratt threw herself prostrate upon the floor of 
one of the ante-rooms of the White House, begging to 
see Mrs. Patterson, she said : * Tell the girl she has my 
sympathy, my tears, but I have no more right to speak 
than the servants of the White House.' When the 
'pardon brokers' trailed their slimy lengths every- 
where about the Mansion, they never dared to cross a 
certain enchanted pathway; and the face of any 
lobbyist set in this direction has always brought up 
in the end against a stone wall." 

Mrs. Johnson shared as little as possible in the 
honors accorded her famil}^, as well after as during 
their stay in the White House, and gladly turned her 
face homeward, to find rest and repose so necessary to 
her feeble condition. 

Once more quietly established at home, she antici- 
pated renewed happiness in the presence of her re- 
united family, and reasonably hoped to have much 
happiness in the future. 

Death hovered near her when least expected, and 
one night, as the servant entered the room of her son 
(Col. Eobert Johnson), he was discovered in a dying 



510 ELIZA m'cardle johnsoit. 

condition, and in an unconscious state passed from 
eartli. From a tear-stained letter, we gather these 
sad particulars. " He was well nnd on the street at 
five o'clock, and at dusk, as the servant went as usual, 
to light his lamp, she discovered that he ^yas in a deep 
sleep. He was never aroused from it. All the physi- 
cians of the village were immediately called in, but 
alas ! too late to do any good. He breathed his last 
at half-past eleven that night, without a single groan 
or struggle. 

" I do not suppose he ever made an enemy in his life. 
He w^as certainly the most popular boy ever raised in 
this part of the country, and continued so after he 
became a man. Oh, if he could only have spoken one 
word to us ! but he passed into the tomb, unconscious 
of all around him. He was buried wdth Masonic 
honors, and the largest funeral ever before seen in this 
village accompanied his remains to the grave." 

After seven years of wanderings he was permitted 
to accompany his parents to theu' home, and die sur- 
rounded by the friends of his youth. Thus in the 
prime and vigor of manhood, he has descended to the 
tomb, regretted by all who knew him, and deeply 
lamented by his mother, who has in a few short years 
lost two grown sons. But one is left to her, and at 
the time of his brother's death (which occurred on the 
22nd of April, 1868) was at school in Georgetown. 
Three children are spared to cheer her saddened age, 
and sustain her in her deep grief. 

Tennessee is proud to have her children return to 
their home in the midst of her grand old mountain 



RETUEN TO TEJN'N'ESSEE. 511 

scenery, and Tennesseeans deliglit to honor and accord 
praise to Mrs. Johnson and her daughters, who, through 
so many difficulties, and the most stormy period of the 
country's experience, so conducted themselves as to 
compel the fiercest opponents of the Administration to 
acknowledge their superior merits. To the family of 
President Johnson Americans point with just pride, 
and their native State responds to the harmonious 
voice of the country. 



XXIII. 

MARTHA PATTERSON. 

The resemblance to lier fatlier is a marked attril^ute 
of Mrs. Patterson's face ; a reproductiou, though mould- 
ed ill a softer cast, of his distinct and reguhar features 
and expressive eyes. She possesses his executive abihty, 
his comprehensiveness, aud many of his characteristic 
peculiarities. Her countenance denotes strength, and 
the organs of the head indicate a harmonious and 
perfect blending with the finer sentiments of the 
heart. 

Eyes large and full discover her power of language, 
and the development of form, color, size, and weight, 
attest her ability to judge correctly and estimate pro- 
portions unerringly. Viewed from a phrenological 
stand-point, hers is a remarkable organism. The head 
is symmetrical, tending u|)ward from the brow, indi- 
cating spirituality, and gently sloping to the ears aud 
neck, embracing in its outlines the faculties of firmness, 
generosity, and benevolence. 

Never led off by persuasion from what her judg- 
ment decides correct, she rarely makes a mistake in re- 
gard to persons or places, and is the firm advocate of 
those less fortunate than herself. Like her heart, her 
mouth is lai"ge, the lips partaking more of the intellec- 
tual than of the sensual. The length, prominence, and 
compression of the uj)per lip, bespeaks the firmness and 
strength of character which stamps her, wherever she 





^^^^-^^^IZ^i- (_y t^;^ 



PERSONAL CIIAKACTERISTICS. 513 

goes, a woman of rare powers. Adapting herself to 
circumstances, she quickly masters any situation in 
which she is placed, and controls rather than follows the 
will of others. The intellectual lobe is large, the per- 
ceptive and reflective faculties are harmoniously blend- 
ed, and withal hei'S is an educated intellect, with an 
available mind. She is possessed of almost sleepless 
energy, and her slight, frail form seems knitted for en- 
durance. Never restless or impatient, she compre- 
hends at a glance her position and requirements, and 
by the force of her will overcomes obstacles and bears 
up with fortitude under accumulated trials. 

Reared in the mountains of East Tennessee, her na- 
ture is untrammeled by artistic contortions, and her 
manners are as free from ostentation as are the feelings 
"which prompt them. The eldest of five children, she 
was to her mother an efficient aid in the care of her 
brothers and sister, and in the management of her 
house. When she was old enough to attend school, it 
was her task to assist in keeping house, and no duty 
was neQ:lecte:l. It has been remarked that she never 
had time to play. While other school-girls amused 
themselves in the sports of the season, the pale, quiet 
Martha Johnson hastened back to relieve her mother, 
and by her indeftitigable industry performed the many 
deeds so grateful to a parent, when offei-ed by a child. 
The neighbodfs called her a strange, silent being, indif- 
ferent to the ordinary amusements of the young, but 
she felt herself ennobled by the work she daily made 
a part of her life, and passed these younger years in 
her own. earnest way. 



514 



MAETHA PATTERSON. 



She was placed by her father, who was then t\ 
member of Congress, at school in Georgetown, where 
she remained three terms, and there laid the foundation 
of the structure which, as she grows older, develops 
her native strength of mind. 

It happened that, during her school-life in George- 
town, President Polk, of Tennessee, occupied the White 
House, and she became his frequent guest, spending 
most of her holidays in the mansion in which, later in 
life, she was to preside. Her own accounts of her so- 
journ are amusing, deprecating as she does the awk- 
^^^ard conduct of the timid, bashful girl, in the stately 
residence, through which the voices of children never 
resounded. She was shy and distant, and the stately 
kindness of the hostess could not overcome her shrink- 
ing reserve ; it was her greatest delight then to observe 
persons, and the opportunity afforded was not lost upon 
her. She returned home in 1851, and was married to 
Judge David T. Patterson, on the 13th of December, 
1856. No wedding festivities marked the occasion, it 
being congenial to her habits to have a quiet ceremony. 
After which she visited Nashville, where her father 
was residing as Governor of the State. Extending her 
tour through the southern cities to New Orleans, she 
returned to her old home in Tennessee, where she con- 
tinued to live until the war in 1860 disturbed the pri- 
vate relations of the entire family. Throughout the 
stormy years of '61 and '62, she remained in East Ten- 
nessee, nor did she leave there till, late in the next year, 
slie visited her mother's family at Nashville. It was 
hrr intention to remain several months and then go back 



HER DISMANTLED HOME. 515 

to her home ; bat before she again crossed its threshold, 
the two contending armies had passed through the 
place, leaving nothing but the empty house. Every 
particle of furniture, every prized relic of her own and 
her children's infant years were gone, and their home 
was desolated. She trod its familiar apartments 
where she had left so many mementoes of a happy 
past, and nothing remained save the bare walls. Well 
she remembered the arranging and adjusting of every 
thing before closing it up, and as she gazed upon its 
comfortless appearance, her mind dwelt upon the time 
she had spent in adding to its adornment. 

The family were in Nashville when the nomination 
of the father, then Military Governor of Tennessee, as 
Vice-President was announced, and they witnessed the 
delight of the Union men of the Capital, as the news 
spread of his success. 

Early in February, the Vice-President proposed to 
leave Tennessee, and his childi-en decided to seek once 
more their home in Greenville. The news of the assas-^ 
sination of President Lincoln flashed over the wires on 
the morning of the 15th of April, as the drums were 
beating and soldiers parading for a grand review and 
procession in honor of the recent victories. It reached 
the family of Mr. Johnson as they were preparing for 
their removal home, and awakened in their breasts 
anxious fears for the fate of the husband and father. 
Assurances of his safety calmed their minds, and with 
deep thankfulness that he was spared, they sorrowed 
for the untimely death of the President. The Nash- 
ville papers of the 19th of April, thus speak of the 



516 MARTHA PATTERSON. 

funeral procession in honor of the murdered Chief 
Magistrate : 

" All places of business were closed, and every store 
and dwelling appropriately draped in mourning. The 
pi'ocession numbered upward of fifteen thousand per- 
sons ; among them were Generals Thomas, Miller, 
Whipple and Donaldson, and in the line of civilians 
which swelled its length was seen the carriage of Mrs. 
James K. Polk, occupied by herself and Mrs. Patterson, 
the daughter of President Johnson." 

The family of the new President reached Washing- 
ton in June, and soon after took up their residence in 
the White House. Here was a new field entirely for 
the diffident woman who was compelled to do the 
honors in lieu of her mother, vv^ho was a confirmed 
invalid. After the harrowing scenes through which 
the former occupants had passed, the House looked 
any thing but inviting to the family. Soldiers had 
wandered unchallenged the entire suites of parlors ; 
and the East Koom, dirty and soiled, was filled with 
vermiu. Guards had slept upon the sofas and carpets 
until they were ruined, and the immense crowds who, 
during the preceding years of war, filled the President's 
house continually, had worn out the already ancient 
furniture. No sign of neatness or comfort greeted 
their appearance at their new home, but evidences 
everywhere of neglect and decay met their eyes, 'i o 
put aside all cereriiony and woi'k constantly, was the 
portion of Mrs. Patterson, under whose control were 
placed the numerous servants connected with the 
establishment. 



HOSTESS OF THE EXECUTIVE MANSION. 517 

" The first Reception held by President Johnson 
was on the 1st of January, 1866, assisted by Mrs. Pat- 
terson and Mrs. Stover, his two daughters. Their soft- 
ness and_ease of manner had an eloquent external ex- 
pression in the simple neatness of their apparel, and 
surpassed in quiet dignity all who gathered to see them. 
The house had not been renovated, and the apartments 
were dingy and destitute of ornament, save two kinds, 
which are more touchiugly beautiful than gems of the 
east. Natural flowers were in profusion, and left their 
fragrance, while the little children of the house wei"e 
living, breathing ornaments attracting every eye. 
The old injured furniture of the East Iloom was re- 
moved, and the worn-out carpets covered with linen. 
The supervision of Mrs. Patterson made the house 
quite presentable. Mrs. Patterson was attired in 
a blue velvet, white Lace shawl, and point lace 
collar. Her dark hair was put back from her face, 
with pendant tresses, and adorned with a single white 
Japonica. Mrs. Stover, who was yet in half-mourning 
for her gallant husband, wore a heavy black silk, with 
no ornaments in her light hair." 

During the early spring, an appropriation was 
made by Congress, of thirty thousand dollars to refur- 
nish the Executive Mansion, and during the long and 
warm summer succeeding, she struggled unceasingly 
with the atlas-heaps of lumber and old furniture 
scarcely worth repairing, but which was renovated for 
use. The firmness and decision of Mrs. Patterson's 
character was fully tested in this trying ordeal, but she 
triumphed over every difficulty, and so maudged the 



518 " MAKTHA PATTERSON. 

amount appropriated that tlie Executive Mansion was 
once more comfortable, and more beautiful than ever 
before. 

Appreciating the condition of the country just 
emerging from a long strife, she determined to make 
the funds voted sufficient to satisfy the demands of the 
upholsterer, and to do so, she constituted herself agent 

Hearing the pro2')osals of various firms, she found, 
to put the matter in other hands, she could not more 
than furnish the parloi-s and reception rooms, and then 
her determination was formed to superintend the pur- 
chases. By dint of perseverance and the coopera- 
tion of competent assistants, she had the house com- 
pleted when the winter season approached. Old and 
abused setts were repolished and covered, and the 
papering which she had not the means to remove 
entirely, was made to assume a brighter appearance 
by the addition of panelings and gilt ornaments. 

The warm weather, which had ever found her be- 
fore the war in her mountain home, now came upon 
her in its intensity, as she labored with her numerous 
assistants in arranging the comfortless residence over 
which she presided. Who, while admiring the elegant 
and refined atmosphere of the historic house during 
her fathers administration, imagined that the entire 
labor vv^as accomplished by the tact and energy of the 
dausrhter who received and entertained her visitors so 
unostentatiously ? 

Tenderly caring for her invalid mother, and her 
children, who grew weary of the restraints imposed 
upon them, she btruggled on and succeeded in making 



HER ADJimiSTRATION OF AFFAIRS. 519 

the house not only attractive to her friends, bat to 
citizens and strangers, who pronounced it handsomer 
than it ever was in times past. The exquisite walls 
of the Blue Room will remain a lasting proof of her 
accomplishod and cultivated refinements, and the grace- 
ful adornments of the hitherto stiff and ungainly East 
Koom are living evidences of her ability. A newspaper 
correspondent who visited the White House compli- 
mented Mrs. Patterson upon the Republican simplicity 
of the establishment, to which she replied, " We are 
a plain people, sir, from the mountains of Tennessee, 
and we do not propose to put on airs because we have 
the fortune to occupy this place for a little while.'"* 
"There is a homeliness in this utterance," says the 
Albany Evening Journal, " which will shock the sensi- 
tive refinement of ' ottar of roses and lavender water 
classes,' but it has a sentiment in it which must meet 
with response from every true lover of democratic ideas 
and practices." 

Throughout the White House there existed not a 
single evidence of tawdry gaudiness or coarseness in 
color or quality ; and from cellar to garret it was over- 
hauled and adorned by the unaffected hostess, who 
called herself " a plain person from East Tennessee." 

" The reference of Mrs. Patterson to the mountain 
home of her family, is suggestive of the fact that when 
the tornado of war was sweeping over Tennessee, Pres- 
ident Johnson's kin dwelt where its ravao;es were most 
dreadful, and that while some who are now leading the 
shoddy aristocracy of the metropolis were coining their 
ill-gotten dollars from the sufferings and blood of brave 



520 MARTH.l PATTERSON. 

men, tliey were being Iinntecl from point to point, 
driven to seek a refuge in the solitude of tlie wilder- 
ness, forced to sul)sist on coarse and insufficient food, 
and more than once called to bury with secret and 
stolen sepulture those whom they loved : murdered be- 
cause they would not join in deeds of odious treason 
to union and liberty. A family with such a record of 
devotion and suffering, needs for its recognition none 
of the adventitious aids of show and pretence. It is 
refreshing in these days of extravagant and pompous 
display, when silly pretence is made to pass current for 
gcntilit}^, when bombast and fustian are palmed off as 
good [breeding, when the shopman's wife emulates the 
luxury of a duke's household, when no one is presumed 
to be worthy the honors of good society who does not 
' put on airs,' to hear that the President's daughter who, 
by courtesy of her new position as his housekeeper, is 
the first lady of the land, proposes to set the example 
of a truly republican simplicity all too rare among 
those who influence the customs of the land.'' 

In September, 1867, Mrs. Patterson accompanied 
the Presidential j^arty on their tour through the 
Northern and Western states, leaving her two children 
with her mother at the White House. Returning in a 
few weeks, she resumed the routine of her life, and pre- 
pared for the approaching season. 

Mrs. Patterson is tlie first instance of the wife of a 
Senator and a daughter of the President presiding over 
the Executive IMansion, President Jefferson's second 
daughter, Mrs. E})pes, held a similar position, but she 
never presided over the Mansion^ and was but once a 



NOT UNLIKE MRS. JOlIIf ADAMS. 521 

visitor at the President's house during, lier short ]ife, 
after her father's election. The threefokl responsibili- 
ties were accepted and endured with a cahn reliance 
on the energies of a mind ever ready for the occasion 
and tne world has already rendered the verdict of 
• many daughters liave done virtuously, but thou ex- 
cellest them all." 

_ Simple but elegant in her apparel, never descend^ 
ing to a disregard of place, yet not carried away by 
the follies of fashion, Mrs. Patterson has pleased the 
eye, and gratified the pride of all who folt an interest 
m her success. Golden opinions of her taste were ^von 
by the rich simplicity of her toilet on every public oc- 
casion, and the beauty of her dress consisted always in 
the artless, unassuming manner of the wearer. 

In the coml)ined elements which go to form the 
marked character of Mrs. Patterson, she was not unlike 
Mrs. John Adams, and her will-power, guided by 
superior common-sense, recalls to mind the life of that 
brave woman of the Revolution ; but the current of cir- 
cumstances mto which she has been thrown, has been 
almost too strong to allow her perfect freedom of ac 
tion. In her life there has never come a time when 
she might choose between diverging pathways; l^ut if 
she could not alter the stern fiats of fote, she had the 
power of dignifying little insignificant things and, ])y 
her manner of meeting them, making the pleasantest 
side appear In an eminent degree she inherits that 
most marked trait of her father's character, patient en- 
durance, and knows " how sublime a thing it is, to suffer 
and be strong." Treading unmurmuringly the appoint. 



•^22 MARTHA PATTERSOIN". 

ed way of life, she depends upon her judgment to 
guide her bark, recognizing the fact that when nature 
fills the sails the vessel goes smoothly on ; and when 
judgment is the pilot the insurance need not be high. 

In the higher walks of literary pursuits she wil] 
never shine, nor yet as a conspicuous person in any de- 
partment of life. She has essentially a Southerner's 
love of home ; and the duties devolving upon her as a 
mother, daughter, and wife, fill the meed of her ambi- 
tion. True to principle, she will perform the duties of 
her station be it high or low, and the amount of cour- 
age hidden away in the recesses of her nature would 
lead her in emergencies to dare — if need be — to die. 

Simple to a fault in her desires, she has learnt to 
gather happiness from within, and to rely upon the 
cold charity of the world for nothing. She would not 
pine for luxuries which others deem necessities, but 
even rather scorns the value many set upon them. 
Keared as she was in childhood by parents remarkable 
for ceaseless industry, she imbibed the lessons taught 
her by example, and is energetic to restlessness, and 
vigilant in working while the day lasts. 

During the impeachment trial of her father, Mrs. 
Patterson was asked what she thought of it, and how 
it would terminate. " I have so much to do," she re- 
plied, " that I have no time to discuss the subject, and 
I suppose my private opinion is not worth much ; I do 
not know how it will end, but all we can do is to wait." 
And she did wait, bending every energy to entertain 
as became her position, and wearing always a patient, 
Buffering look. Through the long weeks of the trial, 



HEE ONEROUS DUTIES. 523 

slie listened to every request, saw every caller, and 
served every petitioner (and only those who have filled 
this position know how arduous is this duty), hiding 
from all eyes the anxious weight of care oppressing 
her. If she was indisposed after the acquittal, it sur- 
prised no one who had seen her struggling to keep up 
before. 

There are no triumphs or displays to record of her 
life, no travels in foreign lands, nor novel sights of 
strange places. She has not stood in the Orient and 
watched the great stars swim down hot Southern skies, 
nor heard from the distant palm groves the orioles and 
nightingales. The even tenor of her way has been spent 
far from the palaces of luxury or the frivolities of fashion. 
She has not trodden the gilded halls of ephemeral wealth, 
nor basked in the sunlight of uninterrupted prosperity, 
but from the emanations of her father's genius she has 
gathered the forces which strengthen her own mind ; 
and the rounds she has mounted in the ladder of pro- 
gressive development have been won by earnest 
thought and the gradual experiences of a still young 
life. 

She more than any other of her name and race, has 
appreciated the giant efforts of her father, and upon 
her has he devoted most attention. The companion in 
childhood of the village tailor, she has become in 
womanhood the counsellor and friend of the successful 
statesman. 

Louis Napoleon, in his Life of Julius Caesar, says : 
■ — " How little able are common men to judge of the 
motives which govern great souls." The history of 



524 MAETIIA PATTERS0J7. 

Mrs. Patterson's stay in tlie Executive Mansion sug- 
gests the thonglit liow nnappi'eciated slie was by 
tliose wlio fawned around lier in lier liour of trinniDli. 
Possessing native intellect to a high degree, she kno^vs 
her latent powers, and her liead thinks and her soul 
feels the difference between her sound principles and 
})ractical sense, and the flippant, vain women who con- 
sider her unfashionable. . With such a class she could 
have no sympathy ; and it is foreign to her nature to 
dissemble. Circumventing all attempts at advice and 
assistance, she taught many who insisted upon hel])ing 
her, that a sensible woman is never at a loss for words 
or manners, and to such, Presidents' Houses are as sim- 
ple residences, requiring only the refinement of tlie 
lady and the ability of a resolute, determined person. 
Genial and sociable to familiar friends, she was gener- 
ally distant and reserved toward promiscuous visitors; 
while, at the same time, she had a high sense of the jus- 
tice due the masses from the family of the first oflicial 
in the nation. This feeling of duty toward others 
actuated her course in keeping the White House ready 
always to be seen by the crowds who daily throng it. 
Parlors and conservatories were kept open as much as 
consistent, though many times very annoying to the 
inmates, and rendering the privacy of their own apart- 
ments I'ather a matter of chance than of certainty. It 
was not unfrequent that idle curiosity-seekers ventured 
through the closed doors which separated the private 
from tlie public wing of the ])uilding, and intru<led 
upon the forbeai'ing occupants; yet such occur- 
rences were never made the occasion of trouble — a 



D03IESTIC HABITS. 525 

polite request and pleasant acceptance of tlie proffered 
apology sufficed, and not unfrequently added tlie of- 
fenders of etiquette to lier list of new-made friends. 

It was the custom of Mrs. Patterson to rise early; 
and after a simple toilet, completed usually by a calico 
dress and spotless apron, to skiju the milk and attend 
to the dairy before breakfast. In the hall connecting 
the conservatory to the main building, her clean pails 
might be seen ranged in regular order. When, on 
Saturday afternoons, the greenhouses were thrown open 
to the public, these evidences of her housekeeping pro- 
pensities were removed. Fond of the delicacies of the 
table, she valued home-made articles, and the delicious 
tea-cakes, from her own receipt, tasted wonderfully 
like those made in her kitchen at home. 

Caring for i-eal comfoi'ts, to the exclusion of costly 
expenditures, she prided herself upon gratifying the 
wants and tastes of her household, and rendering the 
domestic life of the White House a reality. 

In the possession of such principles, and actnated 
by motives which redound to her praise, Mrs. Patter- 
son's life cannot fail to be worthy of emulation, and 
the satisfaction of her conscience must be a well- 
spring of pleasure, sparkling like sunshine through the 
darkest j^laces in her earthly career. 

The last levee held by President Johnson is dis- 
cussed by a Washington paper after the following 
manner : 

" The levees at the Executive Mansion have always 
been occasions of esi)ecial interest to strangers who 
chanced to be in Washinirton durino; the session of 



526 MAKTHA PATTEKSON. 

Congress ; but never before, since receptions were in- 
aiigiirated, lias there been such an ovation at a Presi- 
dential levee as was last nio-ht at President Johnson's 
closing reception. The attendance comprised not only 
an unusual number of our own citizens, but also a 
greater multitude of visitors from all parts of the 
world, than was ever present on a similar occasion. As 
early as half-past seven, and long before th.e doors were 
opened, there were numerous arrivals at the Presiden- 
tial Mansion. An hour later, and the rush had com- 
menced in good earnest. A long line of carriages ex- 
tended from the street to the portico in front of the 
house ; every car on the F Street and Avenue lines ad- 
ded fi-esli accessions to the crowd ; while hundreds, 
availing themselves of the pleasant weather, came on 
foot. Although an extra police force had been de- 
tailed for the evening, and every arrangement had been 
made in the cloak-room for the accommodation of all, 
so great was the rush that confusion was, in a measure, 
unavoidable. The dressino:-rooms and corridors were 
closely packed with people mainly striving to reach 
tlie entrance to the Reception-room, and it was found 
necessary to close the outside doors, and also the door 
leading from the hall into the Red Parlor. The crowd 
here was fearful, but fortunately, it was composed 
mainly of the male sex. 

" Those in front were pushed on by those behind, 
and the position of every one was most uncomfortable, 
while at one 'time, persons were in actual danger of 
being crushed. However, the utmost good humor 
prevailed, and we heard of no accidents. In the ladies' 



THE LAST LEVEE. 527 

dressing-room, tlie pressure was also very great, and 
the breaking down of a table caused some thoughtless 
person to raise an alarm of fire, which for a few mo- 
ments created terror and consternation among the 
timid fair ones. At ten o'clock, the line of equipages 
not only filled the carriage-way from the east to tlie 
west gate, but extended for two squares on Pennsyl- 
vania Avenue. 

" The space in front of tlie Mansion, and the side- 
walk from the portico to the gate, was crowded with 
people, waiting in the hope of gaining admission to the 
house. Policemen were now stationed at the front en- 
trance, and only a few were admitted at a time. Those 
who made their exit from the mansion were obliged 
to pass under the arms of the policemen, who were 
stationed to keep back the surging crowd. Hundreds 
left unable even to reach the portico. The door lead 
ing to the ladies' dressing-room, was blocked by .gentle- 
men looking for those under their charge, while scores 
of bright eyes searched anxiously through the throng 
seeking in vain for escorts not to be found. Many of 
the ladies, unable to find their escorts, were pushed on 
by the crowd, and were obliged to make their entrance 
into the BUie Room unattended, and in several instances 
it was not until the close of the reception that parties 
who had been separated at the commencement of the 
eveninor were aii^ain united. 

" The President occupied his usual position near the 
entrance of the Bkie Parlor, the visitors being presented 
by Marshal Gording. From eight o'clock until after 
eleven the crowd poured through the apartments, and 



528 JMAllTIIA PATTERSON". 

to eacli person, however hnnil)le his or her station, 
President Johnson extend cd a pleasant and cordial 
greeting, Mrs, Patterson, who stood at the right of 
the President, and a few steps farther back in the 
room, was attii-ed with customary taste and elegance. 
She wore a L3^ons black velvet, haridsomely trimmed 
with bands of satin and black lace. A shawl of white 
thread-lace fell in graceful folds over her dress. Her 
hair was simply and becomingly ornamented, and her 
jewelry was of the most chaste description. The cere- 
mony of introduction was graciously performed by 
General Mickler. In the vast concourse assembled to 
pay their respects to the retiring Chief Magistrate, 
were many persons of distinction from abroad, as well 
as an unusual number of Washino;ton celebrities. From 
Maine to Florida, and from the Atlantic coast to the 
seal)oard on the Pacific, there was scarcely a State or 
Teri'itory that was not represented last night, at the 
farewell reception of Andrew Johnson, whose kindly 
grasp and sincere smile called forth many a hearty 
wish for his futui'e happiness and prospei-ity. Exquisite 
bouquets of choice exotics were scattered through the 
rooms The superb East Parlor was dazzlingly illumi- 
nated. Ma2:nificent mirrors flashed back the li<2:bu 
fiom the quivering crystals of the massive chandeliers. 
I'^'i'om the ante-chamber came the sweet strains of the 
Marine Band, floating in softened cadence through the 
sumptuous apartments. Tlie scene was one of unrivalled 
interest, and will never l)e forgotten by those who 
were present. The display of wealth and beauty was 
bewildering. It would be a difficult task to describe 



NEWSPAPER ACCOUNTS OF THE LEVEE. 529 

the toilettes of the many lovely ladies present, and it 
would be still harder to decide, among so large a num- 
ber of magnificent dresses, which was the most beau- 
tiful." 

Another prominent daily contained a lengthy and 
interesting account of this reception, the largest ever 
held in the Executive Mansion, and from all the cir- 
cumstances connected with the unpleasant political life 
of the President, was a signiticant j)roof that he was 
socially preeminently popular. Every grade of citi- 
zens, representing every party and creed, vied with 
each other in their expressions of admiration for the 
honest, upright conduct of the retiring Executive and 
his charming daughters. 

"Last night. President Johnson held his farewell 
reception at the White House, and certainly quite in a 
blaze of glory, as far as social attention is concerned. 
Perhaps the whole history of the Presidential Mansion 
gives no record of such a crowded reception. It is es- 
timated that some five thousand people sought admit- 
tance in vain, while fully as many must have gained an 
entrance, almost each individual member of this suc- 
cessful crowd submitting the host of the evening to 
the inevitable hand-shaking. He bore it well, and un- 
til the last moment a sweet suffering smile irradiated his 
countenance. The band struck up 'Hail Columbia, 
and the doors were thrown open. The President re- 
ceived the crowd in the Blue Hoora, which was hand- 
somely lighted up, and adorned in the centi-e with a 
mag^nificent stand of fra2:rant flowers. As the crowd 

increased, the sagacious official abandoned the system 
23 



530 MARTHA PATTERSON. 

of announcing names, so that the President accepted 
without explanation all who presented themselves. 

" A few stepsfrom the President, and near the stand 
of flowei'S, Mrs. Patterson, a handsome, though not tall 
lady, of very pleasing manners and appearance, 're- 
ceived ' the lady guests. She wore an elegant white 
lace shawl, which quite enveloped her person, and a 
long curl fell down her back. The simply unaffected 
grace of this lady, and her entire freedom from 
pretension, either in garb or manner, attracted highly 
favorable comment. Mrs. Patterson is quite a young 
lady, and when some of the bare-armed, bare-necked, 
would-be-juvenile dowagers were presented to her, the 
contrast was entirely in favor of the President's daugh- 
ter." 

Of the many elegant entertainments given by 
President Johnson, none surpassed the State dinners. 
They were conducted on a most generous and princely 
scale, and reflected lasting honor upon the taste and 
judgment of his daughter, to whom was left the entire 
arrangement of every social entertainment. The mag- 
nificent State dining-room, which had been closed dur 
ing the last few years of President Lincoln's adminis- 
tration, became again a scene of hospitality, and re- 
sounded once more with the voices of welcome guests 
and personal friends. 

Nothing contributed more than these 'affixirs of 
State ' to win for the family that popularity apart, from 
their lofty social position, which they enjoyed whilst 
in Washington. A letter written by a lady who was 
familiar with the home-life of Mrs. Patterson, may not 



AN INTERESTING LETTEK. 531 

prove nniuteresting, pertaining, as it does, particularly 
to the subject of State dinners. 

" Late in the afternoon I was sitting in the cheer- 
ful room occupied by the invalid mother, when Mrs. 
Patterson came for me to go and see the table. The 
last State dinner was to be given this night, and the 
preparations for the occurrence had been commen- 
surate with those of former occasions. I looked at the 
invalid, whose feet had never crossed the apartment to 
which we were going, and by whom the elegant enter- 
tainments over which her daughters presided, were 
totally unenjoyed. Through the hall and down the 
stairway, I followed my hostess and stood beside her 
in the grand old room. It was a beautiful and alto- 
gether rare scene which I viewed in the quiet light of 
this closing winter day, and the recollections and asso- 
ciations of the time linger most vividly in memory 
now. The table was arranged for forty persons, each 
guest's name being upon the plate designated in the 
invitation list. 

"In the centre stood three magnificent ormolu oi-na- 
ments filled with fadeless French flowers, while beside 
each plate was a bouquet of odorous greenhouse exotics. 
It was not the color or design of the Sevres china, 
of green and gold, — the fragile glass, nor yet the 
massive plate which attracted my admiration, but the 
harmony of the whole, which satisfied and refreshed. 
From the heavy curtains, depending from the lofty 
windows, to the smallest ornament in the room, all was 
ornate and consistent. I could not but contrast this 
vision of grandeur with the delicate, child-like form 



532 MARTHA PATTERSON". 

of the woman who watched me with a quiet smile as 1 
enjoyed this evidence of her taste and appreciation of 
the beautiful. 

"All day she had watched over the movements of 
those engaged in the arrangement of this room, and 
yet so unobtrusive had been her presence and so sys- 
tematically had she planned, that no confusion occurred 
in the complicated household machinery. For the 
pleasure it would give her children hereafter, she 
had an artist photograph the interior of the apart- 
ment, and he was just leaving with his trophy when 
we entered. 

" Long we lingered, enjoying the satisfaction one 
experiences in beholding a beautiful and finished task. 
All was ready and complete, and when we passed from 
the room, there was still a time for rest and repose 
before the hour named in the cards of invitation. 

"Through the Red and Blue parlors we sauntered 
slowly, she recalling reminiscences of the past four 
years, and speaking with unreserved frankness of her 
feelings on her approaching departure. It was almost 
twilight as we entered the East room, and its sombre- 
11 ess and wondrous size struck me forcibly. The hour 
for strangers and visitors had past, and we felt secure 
to wander in our old-fashioned way up and down its 
great length. It was softly raining, we discovered as 
we peered through the window, and a light fringe of 
mist hung over the trees in the grounds, and added a 
shade of gloom to the cheerless view. The feeling of 
bodily comfort one has in watcbiug it i-ain, from the 
window of a cozy room, was intensified by the associa- 



THE LETTER CONTINUED. 533 

tious of this liistoiic place, and the sadness of time was 
lost in the outreachings of eternity. 

" Its spectral appearance, as we turned from the 
window and looked down its shadowy outlines, — the 
quickly succeeding thoughts of the many who had 
crowded into its now deserted space, and the remem- 
brance of some who would no more come, were tast 
crovv^ding out the practical, and leaving in its place 
mental excitement, and spiritualized, nervous influences, 
not compatible with ordinary every-day life. Mrs. 
Patterson was fii-st to note the flight of time, and as 
we turned to leave with the past the hour it claimed, 
her always grave face lighted up with a genuine happy 
expression, as she said, ' I am glad this is the last of 
entertainments — it suits me better to be quiet and in 
my own home. Mother is not able to enjoy these 
things. Belle is too young, and I am indifferent to 
them— so it is well it is almost ovei-.' As she ceased 
speaking the curtains over the main entrance parted, 
and the President peered in, 'to see,' he said, 'if 
Martha had shown you the portraits of the Presi- 
dents ? ' Joining him in his promenade, we passed be- 
fore them, as they were hanging in the main hall, he 
dwelling upon the life and character of each, and we 
listening to his descriptions, and personal recollections. 
The long shadows of twilight and deepening gloom 
disappeared before the brilliant glare of the gas, and 
we turned from this place of interest, reminded that 
the present was only ours, and with the past we could 
have no possible business when inexorable custom 
demanded our acquiescence." 



534 MARTHA PATTERSON. 

On the morning of tlie 4tli of Marcli, 1869, Presi' 
dent Johnson, accompanied by his family, bade adieu 
to the servants and employees of the Mansion, and 
were driven to the residence of Mr. Ooyle, on Missom'i 
Avenue. Mrs. Patterson accepted the hospitality of 
Secretary Wells, and reached there soon after twelve 
o'clock. 

Thus closed the administration of President John- 
son. The most perilous, stormy, and trying one ever 
closed in the history of this country ; a record of rude 
unpleasant contact with defiled revilers, and a continu- 
ed struggle from first to last to maintain untarnished 
the oath too sacred to be violated. Not here, but in 
the annals of history will all its tiiumphs be written ; 
not in this day or generation can its untainted and cor- 
rect measures be fully estimated, but to the coming 
men of America it is bequeathed, a sad acknowledg- 
ment of the tyrannous oppression of a President, and a 
testimony of his undeviating course, moving onward, 
swei'ving neither to the right nor to the left, but for- 
ward to the cradles of posterity who will pass judg- 
ment and wreathe immortelles to the memory of the 
patriot, whose truth will not be doubted, whose hon- 
esty cannot be impeached. 

During the afternoon of the day the President left 
the Executive Mansion, the house in which he was a visi- 
tor was crowded to overflowing: with friends and admir- 
ers who gathered about the members of his family to 
express their attachment. For two weeks the same scene 
was reenacted, and day and night the numerous callers 
crowded the spacious house. One continued ovation 



CLOSING SCENES. 535 

of people of every political party assured thein of 
their popularity, too wide-spread to be circumscribed 
by party lines. Greater in their retirement than the 
proudest monarch's of earth, they stood upon its thresh- 
old and received the spontaneous plaudits of a nation. 
Behold them, reader, as they stand that last night in 
Washington ! The invalid wife is in her room, too fee- 
ble to walk, but surrounded by hearts softened and 
eyes moistened at tlie prospect of seeing her no more. 
Mrs. Patterson is bidding a farewell to the sorrowing 
band of employees who have asked as a last favor for 
a likeness, and makes the gift the more acceptable by 
presenting them with pictures of all the family, accom- 
panied by her deeply felt and eloquently expressed 
thanks for faithful services and personal friendship. 
Ever and anon the familiar face of a servant appears, 
and is not disappointed in the welcome received, or the 
parting token of well-merited reward for faithful ser- 
vices. Flowers, "recalling all life's wine and honey," 
shed their aroma through space, and soften by their 
delicate beauty the feelings of all kindly natures. 

Time unheeded passes, and yet the advent of " com- 
ers " forbids the wearied eyes to close, or the final pre- 
parations to be made. With a hand raw and swollen 
from the hand-shakings in Baltimore a few days be- 
fore, Mr, Johnson stands placid, earnest, and deeply 
interested in the final words of all. 

Ah! this— 

" Farewell, farewell is a mournful thing, 
And always brings a tear ; 

But the heart speaks most wlien the lii)s move not, 
And the eye says a gentle gooil-by." 



XXIV. 

MARY STOVER. 

The second daugliter of President Johnson was 
married in April, 1852, to Mr. Daniel Stover, of Gar- 
ter County, East Tennessee. He died December 18, 
1864, leaving her with three small children. 

Mrs. Stover remained at home after the removal 
of her father's family to Washingtou, until the last of 
August, and then accompanied by her three interesting 
children, took up her residence in the White House. 

" Visitors at the White House during the past two 
or three years may retain the memory of a dignified, 
statuesque blonde, with a few very fine points which, 
a fashionable butterfly once said, would make any 
woman a belle if she only knew how to make the most 
of them. Mrs. Stover never ])ecame a star in fashion- 
able circles, and now that she has left the gay capital, 
perhaps for a life-time, she is remembered by those 
who knew her best, as a charming companion of the 
domestic fireside, a true daughter and judicious mother." 

During the administration of President Johnson, 
the White House was brightened by the glad, happy 
faces of children, and for the first time since its occupa- 
tion, they became a part of the society of the House, 
and exerted a powerful social influence outside. No- 
thing afforded their little friends more pleasure than 
to be invited to the President's House, and the agree- 



CHILDREN IN THE WHITE HOUSE. 537 

.il)le manners of the hostesses and hosts rendered their 
visits always delightful. 

Mrs. Stover's little ti-io, and her sister's son and 
daughter, were an attraction not to be resisted ; and 
nothing pleased old acquaintances more than to 1)6 
invited into their private apartments, where the games 
and plays of the young people interested more sedate 
heads. During the day, writing and music lessons 
hushed their merry yoices, and the tasks of indulgent 
mothers occupied reasonable spaces ; but after the even- 
ing meal and the return of the boys from out-door 
sports, the merriment began to the infinite delight of 
every one. Strangers who at the formal receptions 
saw the stately, sometimes haughty appearing daughter 
receiving with quiet grace the many who drew near 
for the inevitable shake of the hand, little knew the 
sociability and good nature hidden beneath her calm 
exterior. 

It was a source of enjoyment and much laughter to 
Mrs. Stover's friends to watch her actions on these 
occasions, especially when her sister was not present. 
Like a statue the first part of the evening, with a look 
of resignation on her face irresistible, she would grave- 
ly return the salutations proffered, and resume her 
forlorn expi-ession soon as the persons past on, only to 
be addressed again by other strangers, whose names 
their owners sometimes forgot and she rarely ever 
heard. Much sympathy she would receive from kind- 
hearted acquaintances who supposed her wearied, until 
the band struck up the last air, and then they would 
be astouiahed at the glad light in her eye and the fervor 



538 MARY STOVER. 

witli wliicli she would bow tliem out. Bantering 
did no good, nor good-natured rebukes from the many 
spies who enjoyed lier agony and deprecated her evi- 
dent regret at parting. Often as she performed the 
task, she acted over her amusing roll ; and the last time 
she assisted at a reception, before her departure for 
her home, her penetrating eye discovered the suppress- 
ed smile, which broadened into hearty laughter as she 
tried to suffer meekly the infliction she would bear no 
more; but true to habit, she expressed her farewells 
with so much impressiveness that old habitues detected 
her and suspicions were aroused as to her sincerity. 
Long after the lights in the parlors were out, she re- 
peated her experiences up-stairs to a friend, and con- 
gratulated herself that she was relieved from the only 
irksome task connected with her life there. 

It was from no want of appreciation or just estimate 
of her position, but an unfeigned diffidence which she 
could not overcome, which kept her from mingling in 
the society of the Capital. And perhaps a feeling that 
she was not understood, developed this disinclination 
to meet strangers. To persons to whom she was at- 
tracted, she was gay and affectionate, full of interest 
and thoroughly devoid of affectation. Her children 
imbibed this trait, and none ever saw evidences of 
deceitfuluess on the part of any member of the family. 
A native strong sense, called common, but in fact a 
rarity, enabled her to discern the true merits of indivi- 
duals, and in her conduct toward others to recognize 
the truth of hei* father's motto, that 

' Wortli makes the man, tlie want of it the fellow." 



RECOLLECTIOiYS OF HER IN WASHINGTON. 539 

To devise new means of enjoyment for her children, 
and provide for their mental and bodily needs, was 
her first thought, and each day was spent with them 
at some one of their duties, often at their dancing 
school, again overlooking their efforts at writing, never 
so well content as when performing some conscientious 
duty. It was in this character she made so many love 
her, and people who never knew her until she went to 
Washington, never weary now of praising the young 
mother, who so unaffectedly acted her part in the high 
station to which she was called. 

Hecollections of Mrs. Stover will not outlive the 
changes of time in the bosoms of the worldly, flip- 
pant " society " people, who tried so A^ainly to enlist her 
in their set ; but the sewing-women and trades-people, 
the attaches of the White House, in all capacities, 
and the servants who served her four years, will never 
forget her generous liberality of manners and means ; 
her polite civilities to all who approached her, and the 
evident interest she took in their affairs, won her their 
lasting regards. The night before she left the " House " 
for her Southern home, a serving man who had learned 
to appreciate her friendship, wept unrestrainedly as he 
bade her and her children a last good-by. 

The house was lonelier after her departure, and the 
voices of her little ones gladden the ears no more of 
those so long accustomed to hear their noisy gambols. 
No President ever before had in the White House so 
many children, or as youthful ones as were the five 
grandchildren of President Johnson, nor will there 
ever be a brighter baud there again. 



XXV. 

JULIA DENT GRANT. 

The inauguration of General Grant as President of 
the United States placed his wife in the exalted social 
position of Mistress of the White House. Mrs. Grant's 
first reception, on the 4th of March, 1869, marked the 
passing away of just fourscore years since Mrs. Wash- 
ington so gracefully dispensed the ceremonious hospi- 
tality of the Executive Mansion. 

Her husband being the youngest man who has 
occupied the Presidential office, he consequently carried 
with him into the White House the novelty of a fam- 
ily of youthful children, and a wife who was still pos- 
sessed of the ambition to shine in society, and who en- 
joyed the blandishments and excitements of high social 
position. 

The prestige of General Grant's military reputation 
added increased lustre to his new position, and, conse- 
quently, could but render any triumpli of political life 
the more signal, since his experiences liad l^een of a 
widely different character. Upon Mrs. Grant, there- 
fore, devolved the pleasure of performing a twofold 
part, in the discharge of which the people of this 
country from the ]>eginning have desired her entire 
success. Unobtrusively and quietly she has gone on 
from year to year doing her duty as liostess of the 
White House, and devoting' her attention to her 



POPULARITY OF JIRS. GRANT. 541 

children. She has entertained personal friends 
and relatives in large numbers, and not one of her old 
acquaintances has been neglected or overlooked by her 
in these lier days of unbounded prosperity and hap- 
2:)iness. Very kindly the press of the nation has re- 
ferred to her, and always, upon every occasion, she 
has so conducted herself as to dignify the name she 
bears, and to gratify her countrywomen. As wife and 
mother she is greatly admired, and in both these re- 
lations she is a credit to the sex and an honor to 
the nation, which latter, in a semi-official manner, 
she is now representing, 1874. The moral atmos- 
phere of the Presidential Mansion cannot but fail to 
be a matter of congratulation to tiie American people, 
and they do not forget that the personal influence of 
Mrs. Grant has had much to do with impressing this 
characteristic of the administration upon the world at 
large. She is essentially a good woman, and as daugh- 
ter, sister, ^vife and mother, she has been all tliat 
could be desired, and has in an eminent degree ful- 
filled the promise of her early years, and the predic- 
tions then made for her by her friends. 

Mrs. Grant is a Missourian by birth, and her early 
years were spent on her father's farm, Whitehaven 
(now the property of her husband), near St. Louis. 
Her father, Judge Dent, was a man of position and 
importance, and his son was, at the time now I'eferred 
to, a cadet at West Point. Through her lri-(^ther. Miss 
Dent made the acquaintance of his classmate, and in 
the course of events, very naturally, this young couple, 
mutually pleased with each other, plighted theii- troth. 



542 JULIA DENT GRANT. 

T]ie matcli was not particularly pleasing to the parents 
of Miss Julia, and it was with no little satisfaction that 
they saw the young officer ordered to frontier duty 
Avith the army under General Taylor. Once out of 
sight they hoped that their daughter's feelings would 
undergo a change, and that she eventually would 
make a more brilliant match. But events occurred 
Avhich endeared him to the family, and when, to croAvn 
all, young Grant saved the life of Lieutenant Dent in 
Mexico, the ol)jections of the family gave way and 
they unconditionally surrendered. The constancy of 
the young people was rewarded after an engagement 
of five years, when on the 2 2d of August, 1848, they 
were married. The wedding took place at Judge 
Dent's residence in SSt. Louis, and a merry one it was 
to all concerned. After the festivities, the young 
]:)ride accompanied her husband to Sackett's Harbor, 
on Lake Ontario, and after a stay there of six months, 
removed with him to Detroit, where he was stationed 
for more than two years. They kept house in a little 
vine-covered cottage near the barracks, and lived in 
the most unpretentious style. During their residence 
in Detroit, Mrs, Grant made a visit to her parents in 
St. Louis, and during her stay, their first son, now 
Lieut.-Colonel Fred. D. Grant, was born. Two years 
later, and ^vhile the father was on the Pacific coast, 
Ulysses, the second son, was born at the residence of 
his paternal grandfather, in Bethel, Ohio. The other 
children born of this union are Nellie, the only 
daughter, and Jesse ; the former in August, 1855 ; the 
latter in 1858. Both of these were born at their grand- 



" HARDSCRABBLE." 543 

father Dent's country home, near St. Louis, the birth- 
place of their mother. 

After Captain Grant's resignation in 1854, he re- 
turned to Missoui'i, poor and disheartened, and with no 
prospects before him. His father-in-law, to assist him, 
gave his wife a farm of sixty acres, and here for sev- 
eral years he fought poverty with his plough and 
axe — ^poor weapons, indeed, for one born to wield the 
sword, and educated in a military school. Of course 
he failed, and leaving " Hardscrabble," the title 
which he had himself given to the scene of such hard 
and unrequited labors, he entered the real estate office 
of a cousin of his wife's in St. Louis. He began his 
career as agent without a hope of success, and but for 
his family would doubtless have thrown up the posi- 
tion in despair. Nothing sustained him in all these 
years of bitter adversity and uncongenial surround- 
ings but the hopefulness of his wife and the unaffect- 
ed and unchanging faith she had in him. It nerved 
him to renewed effort, and animated him wath fresh 
zeal each time that he faltered in his rough pathway. 
Her affection was appreciated by him in return, and 
his tenderness and fidelity was such that to them 
poverty was less terrible to bear than it was to their 
friends to witness. But there were four little mouths 
to feed, and the father felt that yet greater effort must 
be made for them. His Avife did all the work of their 
home, and yet with the most frugal care he could not 
meet his expenses. 

In the spring of 1860 he paid a \dsit to his father 
at Covington, Kentucky, to take counsel with him 



544 JULIA DENT GKANT. 

concerning liis future, and to plan some new way to 
struu'Sfle for bi'ead. His father owned a valuable 
business at Galena, ^v]lere two youngei" brothers ^^ ere 
making money, and into this establishment w-ent the 
unfortunate ex-captain on a salary of six hundred 
dollars a year. Moving his little family to Galena, he 
commenced work in the tannery which has since been 
made famous by his association with it. Poverty 
went with him to his new home, and wliat had been 
"hard scrabble" on the little farm, and in St. Louis, 
was hardscrabble still ; he could not meet expenses. 
Twice his salary was increased, yet he could not 
afford to keep any help, and his wife was maid of all 
work, and nurse and teacher of her children as well. 

The business did not grow more congenial to the 
husband, though he tried his best to do his duty in it, 
and worked many times as hard as would have been 
necessary had he loved his i ask. Possibly, one reason 
of his un])leasant position was due to the fact that 
his brothel", ^vho ^vas thirteen years his junior, was his 
employer, and as the success of the business was due 
to the enterprise of this brother and another still 
younger, the place he held, and wliich he could not 
satisfactorily fill, grew daily more disagreealde and 
unpleasant. 

The twelfth of April, 1860, the clay of the fall of 
Fort Sumter, and the death-knell of slavery, was 
tlie turning point in the life of Cai)tain Gi'ant, as it 
was to many thousands of othei'S, both North and 
South. But to no one man in the nation has it proven 
of such personal significance as to hiin. 



A wife's estimate of her husband. 545 

He was soon appointed captain of a volunteer com 
pany raised in Galena; afterwards was made colonel, 
and later, tlirongli Gov. Waslibnrne's influence, lie re- 
ceived the appointment of brigadiei'-general. From 
tliis time he rapidly I'ose to distinction and recognition. 
Mrs. G rant and the children were at her father's or visit- 
ing hU father's family at Covington, during these first 
years of the rebellion ; she caring for her husband's 
honor and studying his interest in every j^ossible 
way. 

While General Grant was in command at Cairo, 
just after the battle of Belmont, and while his promo- 
tion to a major-generalship was being discussed, a re- 
lation of his said to her : " Ulysses may get along as 
brigadier, but he had 1)etter be satisfied with that and 
not seek to rise higher." 

" There is no danger of his reaching a position above 
his capacity," she replied, indignantly. " He is equal to 
a much higher one tlian this, and will certainly win it 
if he lives." And this was the recognition she always 
gave him, and to this fearless advocate of his worth 
he was indebted for much of the material help he had 
received from l)oth liis and her family. In this time 
of success — though as well of anxiety — she repeatedly 
defended him, and more than once brought smiles to 
the faces of her friends by saying : '' Mr. Grant has 
great natural ability, he would fill any public position 
well if he once had a chance." 

' After the capture of Fort Donelson, while yet the 
country was ringing with praises of her husband's ex- 
ploits, she visited him at that point, and later she paid 



546 JULIA DENT GRANT. 

liim a visit at Jackson, Mississippi. Just after the 
SLiiTender of Vicks])nrg she was in St. Louis, where 
she was serenaded by a great concourse of people, and 
in response to their repeated demand she appeared on 
the l^alcouy of the hotel, leaning on the arm of General 
Strong. The moment she came in view, tlie people 
greeted her with vociferous cheers. She was beginning 
to be made aware of tlie exalted place her husband 
had won in the admiration of the people, and for the 
first time she was sharing with him the dignity of the 
place to which he had risen. 

Several weeks were spent with her husband at 
Vicksburg, and then, when his headquarters were 
established at Nashville, she removed her children there, 
and remained in tliat city until after his appointment 
as lieutenant-general, making during the time a visit 
to St. Louis. 

The implicit confidence Mrs. Grant reposed in her 
husband has Ions; ao^o been rewarded, and there is now 
no one to question his ability as a military ofiicer. 
But there was a time when her faith in him was in 
marked contrast to the opinions entertained by his 
and her relatives. They had seen him fail at farming 
and in the leather business, and a man, in their opin- 
ion, who could not make money in either of these pur- 
suits, was not likely to reach success in anything. 

But his wife was loyal to him, and, when asked by 
a party of ladies her opinion concerning her husband's 
new responsibilities and prospects, just before the 
battle of the Wilderness, she replied : 

" Mr. Grant has succeeded thus far, wherever the 



MR. GRANT AN OBSTINATE MAN. 547 

Governmeut has placed him, and he will do the best 
he can." 

" Do yon think he will capture Richmond ? " 

"Yes, before he gets through : Mr, Grant always 
was a very obstinate man." 

With the return of pea(?e General Grant settled in 
Washington City, where his headquarters as com- 
mander-in-chief of the army were established. His 
family were, for the first time in many years, again with 
him, and they greatly appreciated the three years of 
comparative rest they enjoyed. But they were destined 
to play a still higher part in the national life. Gen- 
eral Grant, the idol of the people after Lincoln, and 
the most successful general of the age, was elected 
President of the United States. 

Mrs. Grant parted reluctantly with her own home and 
prepared to take up her abode in the White House, 
but it was not before the fall of the year that she 
settled doAvn to the routine life there, and prepared to 
perform the duties expected of her. 

The first three years passed away pleasantly and 
without any very great eclat. The Pi'esident's house- 
hold was accounted an eminently happy one, and there 
was always in the house some one or more of his own 
or his wife's kindred. But the children were at school, 
and there was less of gayety than when, later. Miss 
Nellie made lier delmt into society, and the young 
cadet son had returned from West Point, and was his 
sister's escort and companion. 

The family have travelled a great deal more perhaps 
than that of any other of the Presidents. Every sum- 



548 JULIA DENT GRANT. 

iner they have spent at the sea-shore, and now Long 
Branch is their permanent home in the warm season. 
The children have travelled abroad ; the daughter re- 
ceiving the most distinguished attentions whil'e in 
England and elsewhere; and wdien at home their 
young friends have gathered a))out them, eager to 
enjoy the pleasure of their company and the hospi- 
talities of th^ir splendid home. 

But the event that has drawn the American people 
to the President and his household, as nothing else 
could have done, was the marriage of his only daugli- 
ter. Mrs. Grant and Nellie became, from the moment 
her engagement was announced, the most interesting 
persons in the nation. What will the mother do for 
her child that shall be befitting the occasion? was the 
question the young and old of tlie sex asked of each 
other all over America. And grave old men, who had 
long ago forgotten the excitements of their own wed- 
ding days, caught the prevailing infection and became 
interested in the sole daughter of the house, soon to be 
an inmate of it no lono-er. Mothers' hearts ached witli 
Mrs. Grant's over the thoughts of the long separation, 
for Nellie was to marry an Englishman and live in 
England ; and wdien at last the time drew near for the 
nuptials, the entire n^ition became interested spec- 
tators of an event which they could not but feel was 
the most pleasing, and yet the most sad act of all the 
grand drama of the double administration. 

Nellie Gi-ant's was the third wedding which had 
taken place in the White House. President Monroe's 
daughter, Marie, and President Tyler's daughter, Liz- 



THE GEANT-SAETORIS WEDDTTSTG. 549 

zie, tad passed out from itasl^rides, and now, moi'e tlian 
tliirt}^ years later, this youngest of tlie Presidents saw 
liis only daughter wedded in the famous East Room, 
on Thursday, May 21st, 1874, at eleven o'clock. The 
w^edding took place under circumstances of peculiar 
brilliancy. Mr. Algernon Sartoris, the groom, was, at 
the time of his marriage, twenty-three years of age, 
and Nellie was nineteen. He had been educated in Eng- 
land and Germany, and was a son of Mr. Edward 
Sartoris, of Hampshire, England, and his wdfe, Ade- 
laide Kerable, daughter of Charles, and sister of 
Fanny Kemlde. 

Nellie Grant had led an exceptionally happy life, 
and for ten years j)revious to her marriage had been 
the recipient of the most distinguished attentions. Her 
father's position, and his rapidly increasing w^ealth, had 
enabled him to gratify every wish of his daughter, and, 
as if to reward the fidelity of his ^vife in years past, 
he surrounded her children with every earthly bless- 
ing. It seemed only strange that one so situated, and 
wntlial so 3'()ung, should consent to marry and retire to 
private life. But the love affair, begun on the Mtis- 
sia, was destined to terminate ausj)iciously, and eight- 
teen months afterwards the young couple ^vere united. 
The ^vedding was the finest ever knowai in Washing- 
ton, and being possibly the last for many years in the 
White House, and jiossibly the last White House wed- 
ding that the present generation of people shall know, 
the particulars of the occasion are therefore of uni- 
versal interest. 

Not more than two hundred guests w^ere present. 



550 JULIA DENT GUANT. 

but tliey re])reseiited the officials of the Government 
and their families; the Army, Navy and Marine 
Corps, and their families; the Diplomatic Corps, and 
personal friends. Tlie floral decorations of the house 
were superb, those of the East Room being the richest. 
The Wedding Gra/pliic thus described it : 

" From each of the three crystal chandeliers hung 
festoons of green, studded with white flowers. In the 
corner of the room were pyramids of plants reaching 
at least eight feet in height. Blooming j^lants in pots 
stood on the mantels, upon the slabs beneath the mir- 
rors, and over the jamb of the central doorway. At 
the back of the carpeted dais, against the central win- 
dow, stood a bronze statuette holding a large bou- 
quet. The large central window was fairly banked up 
with flowers, while overhead was suspended a marriage 
l^ell. Here a dais was placed, on wdiich the bridal party 
stood. The East Room was newly fitted up last win- 
ter, its decorations being completed only in time for 
the New Year reception. Its coloring and panelling 
well l)efitted a bridal occasion, since gold leaf and 
white paint are chiefly used. Four Corinthian col- 
umns, tw^o on either side the window where the bridal 
party stood, and two on either side the double door 
opposite, support the ceiling. With the exception of 
public halls, the East Room is tlie largest in this 
country. The walls are covered with light gray ]ia- 
per, relieved with mache work picked out with gold. 
The cornice is carved, and is white relieved with gold. 

The wliite and gold columns on either side of the 
front of the dais were wound with white and green 



THE WEDDING IN THE WHITE HOUSE. 551 

wreaths. Above and between the columns and dn*ectly 
over the fi-ont of the dais stretched a horizontal circu- 
lar bar entii'ely covered with exijuisite flowers. From 
this depended in the centre a marriage bell composed 
of snow-balls, In'idal wreath, and tea-rose buds, with 
a tongue of the same. On either side the bell were 
hung from the bar rings covered with green vines. 
Across the centre of the ring that hung on the left 
were the initials "K W. G." (Nellie Wrenshall Grant), 
and within that on the light " A. C. F. S." (Algernon 
Charles Frederick Sartoris). Other floral emblems 
were hung al^out the room. 

White ribbons, stretched across the room from the 
columns on either side of the central doorway to those 
on either side of the dais, divided the guests into 
groups at the upper and lower end of the spacious 
apartment. The centre of the room was thus left clear 
for the approach of the bridal party. There are three 
grand crystal and silver chandeliers, with three tiers 
each of burners with shades, twelve in each tier, and 
twelve more concealed burners have the brilliancy of 
their light enhanced by conical- shaped crystal reflectors 
above plate-glass mirrors. The furniture is of gray 
rep, bordered with wide pufiings of marroon velvet, 
and the windows (there are three at each end and the 
doul:)le one facing east) are draped with ^v]dte lace cur- 
tains, over which fall gray satine boi'dered with a puf- 
fing of marroon velvet. There are eight large plate-glass 
mirrors in the room — four between the windows and 
four above the mantels. Such is the apartment in ^vhich 
the bridal ceremonies took place. The bi-idal party 



552 JULIA DETsT GRA^^T. 

formed in processivon upstairs, in one of the rooms of 
the private suite, and came down the broad western 
staircase, pr(^ceedin_g along the spacious hall \\hich 
leads directly to the East Room. This hall contains 
the jiortraits of five ex-Presidents — Adams, Van Buren, 
Tyler, Pierce and Polk.- No lovelier train ever passed 
before the living eyes of these, our former rulers, than 
their 2)ortraits smiled down upon to-day. First came 
the bridesmaids, tvv'^o and two. These were Miss Anna" 
Barnes, daughter of the Surgeon- General of the Army, 
with Miss Edith Fish, daughter of the Secretary of 
State ; Miss Bessie Conlding, daughter of Senator 
Conkling, of New York,with Miss Sallie Frelinghuysen, 
daughter of Senator Frelinghuysen, of New Jersey ; 
Miss Lizzie Porter, daughter of Admiral Porter, with 
Miss Minnie Sherman, daughter of General Sherman ; 
Miss Fannie Drexel, daughter of A. J. Drexel, of 
Philadelphia, with Miss Madgie Dent, daughter of 
General F. T. Dent. The bride followed on her father's 
arm, and Mrs. Grant with her son Ulysses. The 
groom with his best man. Colonel Fred Grant, awaited 
the coming of the bride at the dais, ^vhere the Rev. Dr. 
Tiifany, of the Metropolitan Methodist Church, of this 
city, also stood waiting. As the biidal procession 
passed across the East Room a murmur of admiration 
Avas heai'd from the assembled guests, so fresh and 
lovely loi^ked the young girls in their pure wdiite robes. 
The bridesmaids separated as they reached the dais, 
grouping themselves on either side, and the bride 
and gi'oom took up their proper position before the 
clergyman. The President stood near his daughter 



CONGRATULATIONS. 553 

and Colonel Fred Grant near the groom, wliile Mrs. 
Grant and her youngest son stood near the clergyman. 
The tableau was very beautiful, the masses of flowers 
forming a most picturesque background. The bride 
and gj oom knelt on reaching their places, while Dr. 
Tiffany made a short prayer. Then arising they stood 
while the brief marriage service of the Methodist 
Church was read by Dr. Tiffany. This service much 
resembles that of the Episcopal Church. The Presi- 
dent gave his daughter away. When the ring was to 
be placed on the finger, the first bridesmaid,Miss Barnes, 
removed the bride's glove and held her bouquet for her. 
At the conclusion of the ceremony the bride and groom 
again knelt, and on arising were immediately sur- 
rounded by the guests, who hastened to offer their 
congratulations. The minister was the first to kiss 
the bride. She immediately turned to her father, who 
embraced and kissed her. Then the mother approached 
and kissed her daughter, as did also the brothers of 
the bride and niunerous relatives and female friends. 
The new-made husband enjoyed his share of the hand- 
shaking and orally-expressed congratulations. As the 
bride and groom were so soon to begin their journey, a 
very brief time elapsed after the congratulations were 
made before the way was led to the wedding 
l)reakfast. 

The entire company assembled in this beautiful 
room on the west side of the house, where a magnifi- 
cent dinner awaited them. The dcpmwr was hand- 
some in every appointment. The table was bordered 
with a flat wreath of flowers. From either end a 

24 



554 JULIA DENT GRANT. 

bank of flowers stretclied to tlie middle of tlie table, 
terminating in a tall bridal pyramid of pure wMte 
blossoms in the centre. Otlier pyramids and floral 
ornaments were interspersed with flags about the 
table. Gold knives, forks, and spoons were used. At 
every plate was the menu, printed in gilt letters on 
white silk, with a bridal knot of white ribbon at the 
top. 

The wedding robe was of white satin and point lace, 
but such satin and such lace as are seldom seen. Both 
were the rarest in texture which money could pur- 
chase. The satin was thick and sheeny, glistening 
like silver. The lace which trimmed it, as well as the 
black lace trimming of another dress of the trousseau^ 
were the wedding gifts of the President, and Avere 
ordered from Brussels some months before, specially 
stipulating that the two pieces should be the most 
suj)erb the manufactory could produce. There was 
no limit as to price. So the President's daughter 
went abroad with a wardrobe befitting a princess. 

The day following the marriage, the young couple 
sailed for Europe in the Baltic^ and their safe arrival 
in England was announced by cable. The summer 
was passed quietly by them at the country residence 
of the husband's father, and promise of their return to 
America the following fall has been made, but not veri- 
fied up to the jDresent time (September). The Presi- 
dent and his family, with the exception of the eldest 
sou, who is with his regiment, s])ent the summer at 
Long Branch, and very quietly passed the long season, 
the first of separation from their daughter. Two years 



A LIFE OF GREAT PROSPERITY. 555 

yet remaiu of tlie President's present administration, 
and these Mrs. Grrant will pass as usual. Her life 
since lier husband's elevation lias l^een remarkable for 
its great pi'osperity. The death in the White House 
of her father, the venerable Colonel Dent, and the 
death at Covington of her husl^and's father, Jesse 
Grant, have been the only sorrows, save the parting 
with her daughter, which she has known; and to coun- 
terbalance these, she has had so many other blessings, 
that her good fortune should satisfy one harder to 
please than is Mrs. Grant. Surely the smiles of an un- 
changing fortune, the pleasures of the Nation's home, 
and domestic joys, are sufficient to render all the com- 
ing years peaceful and pleasant, and that they may be, 
is the wish of the people of the Republic, who have 
so signally honored her hus))and. 



XXVI. 

"THE WHITE HOUSE." 

The corner-stone of the Presidents' House wrig 
laid on tlie IStli of October, 1792, and tlie buildino; 
was constructed after the designs and under the direc- 
tion of Captain James Hobon, Architect. After its 
destruction by the British in 1814, the interior was 
rebuilt by Captain Hobon. It is located at the inter- 
section of Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, and 
Vermont Avenues, which radiate from this point as 
centre. 

The house is constructed of Virginia free-stone, 
which is excessively porous, and consequently would 
cause great dampness in the interior, were it not for a 
thick coat of white lead, which is applied about once 
in ten years at an enormous expense. The rock used 
in the construction of the foundation was quarried by 
Captain Samuel Smallwood (afterward mayor of 
Washington), on the banks of Rock creek, from the 
lower or K-street bridge, as far as Lyonshouse wharf. 
The grounds were formerly enclosed with a high stone 
wall. The old sycamore trees which stand in the side- 
walk on Pennsylvania Avenue in front of the mansion, 
occupy a line running parallel with the former site of 
that wall. The portico on the north front was added 
to the building during the administration of President 
Jackson. 

The latitude to the nearest second, 38° 53' 12", 



THE WHITE HOUSE. 557 

north. Longitude of the President's House from the 
iaris observatory, ^9° 17' IC/^, west. 

In lldS, about eighty paces west of the brick arch 
on Pennsylvania Avenue, a log was thrown over the 
liber, which served as a bridge over which the pro- 
cession passed, headed by General George Washington 
Here the boys caught herring and other fish The 
waters of the Tiber occasionally extended in places 
overthe present Pennsylvania Avenue, the road to the 
Ji^residents' House being considerably north of it and 
along which a traveller in that day might pass from the 
Capitol square to the former without seeing a human be- 
ing. The house of David Burns, which stood in the 
grounds south of the Presidents' House, is now owned 
by his descendants, and is an object of interest to all 
who remember Washington's notion of him as the 
"obstinate" Mr. Burns. 

In lldQ as President Washington passed the 
Presidents' House (then building), a salute of sixteen 
guns was fired by the artillery company stationed at 
tnat point. 

The Presidents' House is situated in the western part 
of the city, on a plot of ground of twenty acres ; forty- 
four feet above high-water mark. It has a southern and 
a^ northern frout ; the southern commanding a lovely 
view of the Potomac. On both fronts the grounds 
are laid out with taste and planted with forest-trees 
SgS '^^ '^'^^-'■^—fS-el, broad and 

Tlie mansion is two stories and very lofty, one 
hundred and seventy feet front, and eighty-six feet 



558 THE WHITE HOUSE. 

deep. The northern front is ornamented with a lofty 
portico of four Ionic columns in front and three on 
either side. Beneath this portico drive the carriages 
of visitors ; immediately opposite the front door, across 
the open vestibule or hall, is the Reception Room. 
The East Room is eighty feet long, forty feet wide, and 
and twenty-two high. There are four mantels of mar- 
ble with Italian black, and gold fronts, and very hand- 
some grates ; each mantel is surmounted with a French 
mirror, the plates of which measure one hundred and 
fifty-eight inches, framed in splendid style. Four other 
large mirrors, two at each end of the room, reflect the 
rays from three large chandeliers, from which depend 
glass pendants, which glitter in the light like dia- 
monds ; each chandelier has twenty-seven burners. 

In front of the Presidents' House, in a small en- 
closure, is the bronze statue of Jefferson, presented to 
the government by Captain Levy, of the United 
States army, who was, at tliat time (1840), owner of 
Monticello. The statue stands on a pedestal: in his 
left hand Jefferson holds a scroll of the Declaration 
of Independence, and in his right hand a pen, as 
though he had just finished that immortal instrument, 
and was anticipating the glorious results of its influence: 
the terror it would strike among the foes of freedom ; 
the strength with which it would nerve the patriot's 
heart ; the bitter opposition which it would meet with 
from some ; the joy with which it would be hailed by 
more ; and, if adopted, the high destinies which awaited 
Young America. 

It now occupies an eligible position, and will long 



THE WHITE HOUSE. 559 

stand in honor alike of the great man it so faithfully 
represents, and of the noble spirit of pati-iotism that 
secured and presented it to the nation. It formerly 
stood in the Rotunda of the Capitol, 

The Presidents' House, during Mr. Jefferson's ad- 
ministration, stood unenclosed on a piece of waste and 
barren ground, separated from the Capitol by an al- 
most impassable marsh. That building was not half 
completed, and standing as it did amidst the rough 
masses of stone and other materials collected for its 
construction, and half hidden by the venerable oaks 
that still shaded their native soil, looked more like 
a ruin in the midst of its fallen fragments and 
coeval shades, than a new and rising edifice. The 
silence and solitude of the surrounding space were cal- 
culated to enforce this idea, for beyond the Capitol hill 
as far as the eye could reach, the city, as it was called, 
lay in a state of nature, covered with thick groves and 
forest-trees wide and radiant plains with only here 
and there a house along the intersecting ways, that 
could not yet be properly called streets. 

Thomas Moore visited the United States in 1804, 
and writes in his letters to his mother, that " the Presi- 
dent's House is encircled by a very rude pale, through 
which a common rustic stile introduced visitors." 

Among other pets presented to Mi-. Jefferson were 
bears, deers, turkeys, and sheep. They were kept in 
the adjoining enclosures, now so handsomely improved. 
A vicious ram of the flock killed a young and promis- 
ing son of Mr. Keer, the first cashier of the old Uni- 
ted States Bank. Mr, J. T, S. Clark, in his valuable 



560 THE WHITE HOUSE. 

unpublished manuscript, says, the Executive Mansion 
was opened for the reception of visitors on the 1st of 
January, 1818, being the first time since the comple- 
tion of repairs, subsequent to its destruction by the 
British. 

Gas was introduced into the White House during 
Pi'esident Polk's administration, the 29th of December, 
1848. 

Until President Fillmore's time there was no libra- 
ry. The circular room in the second story contains 
now a fine collection of books, many of them purchased 
during President Buchanan's administration. The 
trees on the western side of the mansion were planted 
by President John Quincy Adams. At various times 
there have been complaints made of the ^'"palace'''' in 
which the Presidents were entertained during their 
terms, and not a few have been tlie bitter denuncia- 
tions, written and spoken, " of its in appropriateness," 
averring that it is too fine and too large for a Republi- 
can Chief Magistrate. However, as the country in- 
creases in population and wealth, these objections will 
die out, and as the most interested persons say nothing 
of its being too large or elegant, it is to be supposed 
it will continue to be the Executive Mansion as long 
as the country remains under its present form of gov- 
ernment. Congress has heretofore made an appro- 
priation after the election of each new President,* for 
repairing and refurnishing the mansion. After the 
close of the late civil war, it was entirely dismantled 

* Tberti was none made during President Tyler's administration. 



THE WHITE HOUSE. 



561 



of every thing portable or valuable. Afterward it 
was renovated, and the first floor beautifully papered 
and refurnished under the auspices of Mrs. Patterson, 
the daughter of President Johnson. The gr^en-house 
was partly burned in the winter of 1868, but is now 
greatly enlarged and adorned, and adds much to the 
beauty of the fine old mansion. 

From the library-window on the second floor the 
view of the Potomac is very extended and magnificent. 
On a clear day, the distant points of Fort Washington 
may be dimly defined, and the old city of Georgetown 
distinctly seen. 

The White House contains twenty rooms, includ- 
ing offices, reception rooms. President's office, and li- 
brary. The first floor is devoted to the public, consist- 
ing entirely of parlors, state dining-hall, and the 
femous East Room. The three parlors, the Red, 
Blue, and Green Rooms, are historic apartments well 
known to the people of the Republic. 

A mural of hope, it towers amid the surrounding 
forest-trees, while the years of its glory and fame are 
fast filling the century's scroll, and are welcoming the 
advent of 'the centenary morn. 



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